Slayer's Vengeance
by Jago-Dakari
Summary: A meeting between a yautja huntress and a human marine turned vengefull slayer will shake the very foundation of both races in this story of adventure, love and loss.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all.

This is the first chapter of my first multi chapter story of epic proportions. As such, any reviews and constructive criticisms will be of great value to me.

Special thanks to Khalthar who has so kindly volunteered to be a beta Reader.

But enough of me taking up your attention, READ AWAY!

* * *

><p>It's the end of the 23rd century and mankind has reached the stars, establishing many out lying colonies on other worlds similar to Earth under the leadership of the Terrestrial Federation. During that time they had come in contact with the Yautja race where before they only met some individuals over the centuries and both races shared comparatively good, though separate, relations. However, there are some xeno extremists who think otherwise.<p>

This story revolves around the exploits of Ja'anya (Jaina), a Yautja huntress of the Lai'kairis clanship, and of Alaric, a marine turned vengeful slayer seeking to avenge the brutal murders of his family. Both come together during their exploits and Alaric comes to learn that there are some things that are worth living for. However, a long forgotten history will surface that will threaten to tear them apart.

Note: those of you who never played, or even heard of warhammer fantasy battles won't know what a "Slayer" is. A "Slayer" is a dwarf (original race that has Slayers) that has been dishonored in some irredeemable way and has forsaken everything to find death in combat and in doing so regain their honor. Dwarfs are psychologically incapable of suicide, or fighting deliberately to lose, so they always enter the fight to win. I tweaked the concept a bit so it'll fit a human, the Slayer concept is the IP of Games Workshop.

Chapter one, The Slayer.

The forest was strangely quiet during this hunt; something had made the local fauna speechless. The jungle world of Floria VII was known through out the sector as being a place of adventure and battle since it was colonized in 2154. Even after that time, the planet wasn't fully colonized because of the native plant life's uncanny ability to grow at an alarming rate. Another reason was that it was where hunters from all over colonized space gathered to hunt its dangerous and cunning beasts. And it was here that one hunter, or in this case one huntress, found her life turned upside down by a grim relic of the ancient past.

Ja'anya, a young newly Blooded huntress, crouched in a massive moss covered tree as she counted her recent kills. Her mask was sitting in her lap while she counted the skulls she had claimed. Her weapon of choice had been a long glaive polearm that was resting on the tree trunk. This weapon had earned her a respectable status by allowing her to cleave the heads off three Kainde amedha in one slash, and it had been her preferred weapon ever since. That was not saying she didn't use her other weapons, only that she preferred her glaive over the various other weapons that she had available.

She had been raised to be a huntress like her mother but she was also into medical arts very much like her late father had been. She remembered her father, an adaptable hunter, and a brilliant doctor who had often risked his life getting much needed medicine components from hostile worlds. If there was anything anyone on her clanship needed, he would get it. One such trip ensured his death when he was fatally ambushed by xenomorphs, yet he still fought on, and through sheer will alone, held off his final breath until his mission was complete. She was only a pup when it happened and studying the healing arts was a way of paying homage to him.

The Yautja of her clanship considered her to be an attractive female. Possibly one of the best of her generation with fine pearl white tusks, the talons on her hands and feet were jet black, her eyes were a shade of bright violet like her mothers, fine dark tanned skin which had fine dark stripes on her back like a tiger and she had her father's selfless personality. In many ways, she was regarded as a perfect female, as if she was a living incarnation of a goddess but there was one thing that set her apart from other Yautja females. She was short by Yautja standards, a rare thing for her race and more so for the females, just closing in at six feet. This would be considered the Yautja's version of dwarfism. This didn't seem to bother her at all because it only made her more agile then most of the other hunters on her clanship where she was able to use her smaller frame to take advantage of minute gaps in an opponents defense.

She had claimed four skulls from the xeno extremists on this world. She despised these people who sought to spread the deadly xenos to every world. The humans didn't seem to mind hunters killing them because the extremists were a common enemy ever since the xenomorphs were first encountered. Throughout history there had been fanatical groups, whether its ideologies were about religion, race, color, creed, or sex, but when it came right down to it, they were always pretty much the same thing; murderers. It was those extremists who had nearly cost humanity their home world to the xenomorphs. It was the extremists that doomed many worlds in favor of their 'divine creatures'. They were carriers of a relentless plague.

She readied her glaive, checked her armor, donned her mask, and proceeded through the canopy of the forest, leaping from tree to tree, looking for her next kill. This jungle world held many surprises for a hunter, the humans had colonized many worlds by the end of the twenty-third century and it was opportunistic for the Yautja that humans had colonized this one with game hunting in mind. The best of both worlds in a sense. She had hunted here a few times before and each visit held another surprise for her, be it new prey or a lovely view from the trees.

There was a reason for her visit this time, some curiosity needed to be sated. There was a very strange occurrence that had been happening for the past Earth year. There had been numerous reports, from both humans and Yautja, of a humanoid figure wandering the forests, killing off anything that got in the way of the blood-crazed and completely psychopathic rage. Strangely enough, it never attacked humans, but if it happened to encounter a Yautja, it would begin a relentless and merciless attack. What was even stranger, was that the mysterious figure would then leave, just as suddenly as it had appeared. One identifying fact for this phenomenon was that it seemed to mistake the hunter for something else, or it might be possible that those hunters weren't the right ones. Ja'anya wanted to see the origin of the ethereal stories with her own eyes.

Leaping from tree to tree, she wondered idly if she would ever find a mate, but her size made it hard to find one that would accept her. All the males seemed to prefer bigger females than her, and that often made her frustrated because she was just as strong as any of her race. However, she had no intention of finding a mate yet. She just wanted to hunt for a time. That was when she heard the sound of combat accompanied by the typical yells, bestial roars, and the falling of bodies.

'_What is that?'_ She wondered as she stopped to listen.

She focused on trying to recognize the sounds. It sounded suspiciously like a pack of wild animals were trying to pick off a single target. It was probably just nature taking its course, as was the way of all things. Ja'anya was about to move on to look for her next trophy when she heard a long, powerful roar. And it sounded like it had originated from a fellow hunter, and not from what ever was attacking it. Immediately, in an act that her father was known for, she moved rapidly in the direction of the roar. Nimbly jumping from branch to branch as she headed to check on a fellow hunter. She landed on a large branch, outside of a rocky clearing and surveyed the scene in front of her. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

In the clearing at the top of a hill, being attacked by several, ten foot tall giant lizards dubbed pseudo-raptors was a strange looking human. He was bare-chested, had a broad yet slim build and he wore armored gloves on his hands. He also was wearing dark green camouflage pants, armored boots, and greaves, reminiscent of the human colonial marines. He was fighting the pseudo-raptors with such a ferocity that she was suddenly very glad that she wasn't anywhere among them. But instead of wielding marine weaponry such as their trademark pulse rifle, which is what would be expected, the human male wielded two ornate broad headed axes in each hand, and had a double handed battle axe in a marine combat harness strapped on his battle scared yet muscular back. What was perhaps the oddest and striking feature about this human was that he had long, fiery orange-red hair that would've gone past his waist if it wasn't stuck out in alarming angles making him resemble some sort of demented spiked animal. Then, there were the faint blue markings on his body and face that looked like war paint that had faded over time.

There were eight dead pseudo-raptors strewn about the place that had been hacked, slashed, and cleaved apart. One had even been impaled onto a jagged spire of rock. Ja'anya scanned the area for anyone else but she couldn't see any signs of another individual.

The human dodged a swipe from a pseudo-raptor's razor sharp claws before lunging back and with one swipe from both axes took half its head off in a massive spray of blood and cranial matter, much of which, landed in the human's face. The reptile's still twitching body went cascading down the side of the hill to smash against the rocks below.

Ja'anya looked on impressed with what she was witnessing. She had heard stories from experienced hunters of the colonial marines, but she had never heard of one who would take on foes with nothing more than simple melee weapons. Though the way this human wielded them in each hand suggested that he had been trained extensively.

The human charged at one pseudo-raptor, roaring loudly. The raptor tried to grab him in its maw but the human slid right under its grasp, slashing his axes into its belly. Its guts rolled out in a fleshy tsunami as it keeled over and died while the human slid out from beneath. The human casually twirled his axes before grinning as he deliberately chose his next target.

'_This ooman has skill.'_ Ja'anya thought in silent admiration.

The human jumped on the back of one pseudo-raptor, driving the axes deep into its back. The beast shook him off and he fell onto the ground hard dropping both of the hand axes in the process. He rolled back up instantly and drew the axe on his back. The pseudo-raptor behind him bit into his left shoulder hard, making him lose control of his arm and the limb fell limp and useless. He casually swung the axe dead center into its skull, crushing the bone and penetrating the brain. It let go of his shoulder and fell limply to the ground. Blood poured out of the wounded shoulder but the human showed no sign of pain. In fact, it only seemed to make him angrier.

The human charged at the last pseudo-raptor and drove the axe into its side. It bucked, roaring and lashed out at the human with its tail hitting him hard and fast in the chest. Bones broke as his ribcage cracked and he was flung several meters in the air before falling into the hard rocks and landing in a heap, Ja'anya looked on shocked as the human struggled to get to his feet. He stood up shaking and coughing, with blood spurting out of his mouth and several puncture wounds on his body with sharp stones lodged in them. One jagged piece of rock was sticking out of his chest and he merely ripped it out, blood gushing from the wound, and threw it back into the rocks. The raptor charged at him with the axe still lodged in its body.

'_What is this ooman doing?'_ She wondered in disbelief. _'Why isn't he getting out of its way?'_

It was as if this human had a death wish. The human was moving slowly towards the raging pseudo-raptor. The pseudo-raptor roared and charged to bite him in its jaws. The human, with flawless precision, rolled to the right, leaving bloody smears on the grass and rocks and pulled his large axe out of the animal, trailing blood in the air. He jumped and brought the axe down on its spine. Its legs gave out and it crashed headfirst to the ground. The human then limped up to the paralyzed predator and brought the axe down hard on its head, ending its suffering.

He just stood there for a moment, panting heavily and bleeding out before throwing his head back, his fiery hair whip lashing his back and letting out a long frustrated roar. With that the human fell backwards hard onto the ground, his body bouncing on impact as what ever strength that had keeping him up had finally given out.

"How in the black warrior's skill?" She whispered to herself, shocked at what she had seen. "It would take twenty, no fifty, oomans to take on that many in close combat"

She jumped down, invisible in her cloaking field and ran over to the fallen human, her glaive poised just in case while she stood over the human. From the looks of him, he was about the same height as she was. His breathing was shallow, which told her that his lungs were punctured. Deep crimson blood was seeping from his wounds and pooling around him. Then the human looked up at her and he gave a sort of strange smile. Ja'anya then saw a striking feature. This human's irises were a deep red, the same color as the slowly spreading blood that pooled around him.

"Yautja…finally." He said softly but with a distinct tone of hostility in his voice.

As the human struggled to get his axe, Ja'anya stepped on his hand with her foot. He then struggled with what little life was in his body, but Ja'anya held her foot firmly down. He looked at her with deep red eyes, like he was daring her to strike as he continued to struggle.

"Do it, finish what you started." He said in a snarl. "You and your lackeys are fucking murderous cowards anyway."

She stared at him in puzzlement. _'Did he really want to die?'_

Then, there was that insult which had definitely struck a nerve.

She raised a fist and with one punch in the center of his forehead, she knocked him out cold. She got off his hand and crouched by him while she examined his wounds. She was surprised that he was able to move with those injuries. Either this human was a madman or just stubborn enough not to let such wounds stop him and she quickly made up her mind.

She decided take him back to her ship and tend to his wounds. Then she'd get the answers she wanted one way or another.

She pulled out her medical kit and she very carefully tried to stem his bleeding. She knew that she would be able to fully help him back at her ship, but she had to make sure he lived long enough to get there first. Pulling out a plasma cauterizing pad, she deftly and quickly sealed those wounds she could reach. His punctured lung would have to hold on in the meantime. Picking him up and slinging him over her shoulders, not something that was hard to do with humans. She walked over and retrieved his axes from the pseudo-raptor's carcass. They were surprisingly light, almost too light for them to be of human make. She noticed that the back of each hand axe's head was an arrow headed spike, mostly likely armor piercing for tougher kills. Holding one to her hand, she lightly pressed her palm on it to check the sharpness of the edge but immediately withdrew her hand in pain. She looked at her hand and saw a deep cut in her palm and her blood was seeping out and running down her wrist pooling around her wrist computer.

'_This isn't normal!'_ She thought. _'How does an ooman know how to make monomolecular blades?'_

Now she was more intrigued by this human. She began running through the dense woods back to her ship. She nimbly jumped over logs and ditches, all the while with the unconscious human on her shoulder. Her ship was nearby, about a twenty minute run from her current position, cloaked to keep it from being seen. It was a small scouting ship for traveling hunters, something that suited her perfectly. She activated the entry ramp, which came down quietly and she immediately entered carrying her unconscious guest before retracting the ramp up.

She carried the unconscious human through the hallway to her bedroom and dumped him on the bed where he bounced up on to his side. She laid him on his back before taking off her weapons. She went over to an ornate cabinet made of black wood and pulled out a surgical kit. Firstly, she bandaged her cut hand before setting to work. She walked back to her patient, pulled an injector pistol from her kit and loaded it with a vial of clear fluid. She jabbed it into his neck and injected it before withdrawing. The human didn't react to it as she hoped. Using her mask's multiple vision modes she began the process of healing his fractured body. The fluid she injected helped to pinpoint areas of internal bleeding which showed up bright among the dark view of her mask's interface. She saw that, strangely, his internal organs were not as damaged as she had feared. The most serious internal injury was his right lung that took the impalement. While switching back to normal vision, she suddenly noticed something glitter on his chest, obstructed by the combat harness. She leaned over to see what it was, her long dreadlocks draping over the man's chest.

She picked up a pair of dog tags; the name on it said 'L.T. Alaric...'

The rest was unreadable with a lot of scrapes and dents from however many battles this man had been in. This confirmed her suspicion that he was indeed a marine. She flipped them over to see the other side and she saw an emblem of a winged sword.

She also saw what looked like a locket. It was rectangular in shape, and embossed on the front was what appeared to be a rune of some sort, the same type as the ones on the axes. She tapped on it with her talons, it flipped open, the front of it flipped downwards and revealed a small picture, and she quickly zoomed in on it. It showed this man but he looked a lot different. He was dressed in a camo Marine Corps uniform and with black hair instead of orange that had been tied into a long ponytail resting on his right shoulder. He had a brown haired woman in the same kind of uniform with a child sitting on her lap. The man had a happy smile on his face and was resting that double handed axe on his chest.

His family?

She looked at the man, noting the changes between him and the picture before laying the tags back on him. She would know the answer to that soon enough as she diligently worked on him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- old wounds and nightmares

_A woman's pained screams filled the room. A child's terrified cry pierced the uproar. Merciless and inhuman laughter blotted them out. A bloody hand reached out to the shadows before a shower of broken glass blocked the view of those shadows. Then the whole world erupted into a firestorm, the screams were even louder then before. Then from the flames strode a dark figure wielding three axes._

The man identified as Alaric opened his eyes suddenly, sweating bullets and groggily taking in the scene. He was in a strange room and he could feel that he was on a rather large bed, with what looked like a fur blanket on the top of the fine linen sheets that he was lying on. Bandages were wrapped around his torso and shoulders and he could make out stitches on his body where gashes used to be.

'_What am I doing here?'_ He thought. _'I should be dead and my skull mounted on a wall?'_

He tried to lift himself up, but the pain made it extremely laboring. Breathing deeply he sat up quickly. The pain was excruciating but he made it into a sitting position. His whole body was tender and he saw his axes, cleaned and shining, propped up neatly on a stool by the bed he was on.

"So that hunter didn't kill me…" He said to himself.

He raised his right hand to scratch his head, his fingers passing through the spikes in his hair. He felt stitches in his head and it irritated him. He decided against scratching them.

'_Hmm…'_He thought. _'Maybe it'll want to fight me or torture me once I've recovered.'_

He had heard of hunters healing humans who had shown exceptional fighting skills in order to have an honorable fight rather then attacking them while they're injured. Their often strange code of honor forbid them from doing that. Unless they were Bad-Bloods obviously.

'_Just maybe…'_ He thought with hope. _'This will be the right one. Number forty-one.'_

His answer soon came when the door slid open and in came Ja'anya dressed in a flowing gown, her dreadlocks came down to just above her waist and she had what looked like meat and fruit on a tray she was carrying. Her eyes went wide as she noticed that Alaric was awake and moderately well.

Alaric's mind went into a bend as saw his misjudgment of the Yautja who had nursed him back to life.

'_It's not the one!'_ He thought with frustration. _'It's not any of them!'_

"Ah, so you finally woke up." She said in the ooman language in which she was surprisingly fluent. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't ever wake."

"So it seems." Alaric said with obvious distrust in his voice.

She sat down at the edge of the bed as she laid the tray down. Alaric looked at her with puzzlement in his maroon eyes. Obviously, he was confused at the sight of a small Yautja huntress. The hunters that he fought against were all over seven feet tall at the least.

"Aren't you a bit short for a hunter?" He asked dubiously.

"That's what every one says when they see me." Ja'anya answered. "My lack of height is what they always see first. It's... what's the ooman word?"

"Frustrating."

"Yes, that's the word."

She handed him one of the fruit that was on the tray. Alaric accepted it somewhat cautiously. He examined it very carefully, looking for any sign of poison or any nasty trick.

"Why am I still alive?" He said to himself.

"Well, because I took your battered body and nursed you back to life for the last seven days. For one thing I'm actually surprised you lived with the amount of blood you lost"

"I'm not. Although, quite frankly I was sure I met my end when you arrived."

He took a bite out of the fruit not even bothering to peel it and he chewed it, waxy skin, seeds, and all.

"Why the attitude Ooman?" Ja'anya asked; she was clearly offended by Alaric's behavior.

"I'm a Slayer. What else would you expect?" He asked rhetorically before swallowing.

Ja'anya raised an eyebrow.

'_Slayer? Is that what he calls himself?'_

"A what?" She asked confused.

Alaric looked at her, in a manner that said his words should have been clear enough.

"You don't know what a Slayer is, do you?" Alaric said, sighing. "To put it short, a Slayer is a warrior brooding about the misery of existence and seeks death at the hands of any dangerous beast or warriors he finds, or to put it even shorter a suicidal loner."

Ja'anya looked at him. A human who loathed living and sought death by hunting down dangerous animals; she never heard of such a thing. She flexed her mandibles open as she ate some meat of the tray.

Alaric lifted his left arm and flexed the muscles. He was relived that the bite didn't cause too much damage.

"I never heard of any oomans that call themselves that." Ja'anya said.

"Well you wouldn't." Alaric said. "I'm the only one you'll ever find."

He started picking out bits of skin and crushed seeds from his teeth. Ja'anya watched him. So far, her questioning wasn't getting anywhere, so she decided to try a different approach. She decided to introduce herself, and get to know him a bit.

"My name Ja'anya of the Lai'kairis clanship." She said.

Alaric merely nodded. Like he was not paying any attention.

"So, your name is Alaric?" Ja'anya asked, trying to make conversation.

Alaric shot her a hard look.

"Sneaked a look at my tags while I was out, did you?" Alaric bit out.

He was about to take another bite from his fruit when she said something that immediately got to him inside.

"Why do you seek death when you have a family?" She asked.

Alaric suddenly squeezed the fruit so hard and fast that it squirted juice and pulp on his face and on Ja'anya, making her pull back in surprise. His eyes were staring of into space and his lips were quivering slightly. Ja'anya looked at him while wiping the mush off her face. He looked at her with anger in his eyes and a snarl in his mouth.

Ja'anya knew immediately that she had struck a nerve, and she decided that it was a good thing she had a knife behind her back just in case.

"I had a family once." He said, in a surprisingly calm tone. "They were taken from me."

He tossed the pulped fruit on the tray, wiped his face, and leaned over where he picked up one of the axes and he held it on his lap in a way a child often does with a much loved pet.

"These are all that I have left, heirloom axes and my memories. Your race saw to that, with a lot of relish and satisfaction on their part."

Ja'anya came closer so her head was a foot away from his.

"What happened to them?" She asked. "It's evident that you mean it when you say it was my people who did it."

"Not evident. It's the truth."

He looked up at her. He sighed as he tried to think of the best way to tell her.

"To know about me, you have to know about the bloodline of Grimnir, the first slayer." Alaric started, choosing his words carefully so that Ja'anya could understand. "My ancestors were all warriors from Europe, descended from the ancient Spartans of Greece, according to our family legend anyway. Grimnir was the warrior chief of my clan who had suffered the loss of his wife and all but one of his four children who were killed and mutilated by Mongol invaders. The only survivor was his youngest son who had been nailed onto his throne as an act of vilification of the highest scale. Enraged, he swore an oath that came to be called the Slayer Oath, how he would personally hunt down and kill the enemy leader who ordered the attack and those responsible or die trying."

'_Sounds like a colorful history,'_ Ja'anya thought. _'A bit barbaric and tragic but interesting.'_

"However, since he was chief he was honor-bound to lead his clan and so he couldn't seek to kill the Mongol leader and so the oath was passed down his bloodline, the eldest son in the family taking up the oath when his father died. It wasn't until four years ago, when I was eighteen, that the oath had finally been fulfilled and that Genghis Kahn's last living descendant was killed by my hand."

He stopped for a moment and held out his right arm, she looked at it and saw six runes of the same kind on his locket, colored jet black and tattooed on his forearm. One of them, the one on his wrist was just a patch of faint scar tissue were it had been removed by a sharp, bladed instrument. The other five were fresh; no more then a year old.

"It was pretty fortunate that he was a wanted extremist priest." Alaric said, with a hint of amusement.

"You fulfilled that oath, so why have you got five more?" Ja'anya asked dragging her finger lightly over them.

She had seen human runes in various historical texts from hunters in the past. But these runes were unlike anything that she had seen. They were all arrow shaped, with a secondary chevron near the base. The squat size of each of them would suggest that they were etched within a square no bigger than a square inch.

"One year ago, that was when I finally had a family after my ancestor's oath had been completed that it was taken from me, exactly the same way it started." Alaric said, keeping a strangely calm tone, "I came home on leave to hear sounds of screams and breaking objects. I ran upstairs to find that my family was being murdered. I broke the door down only to have two wrist blades plunged into my chest."

He carefully moved the bandages on his chest and shown her two jagged scars on his chest, they were positioned 3 inches apart from each other, one scar in each pectoral muscle. She hadn't seen these earlier because his torso had been covered in his and those reptiles' blood.

"The shooter didn't have a good aim from the look of it." Alaric explained. "Though I think it was deliberate that it didn't get my heart."

He moved the bandages back up.

"There were five of them, Predators as we marines call them. Some of them were... raping my wife…I'll never forget her screams." He explained, masking his emotions well. "My infant son was chained against the wall in the way a crucified man would be in some kind of twisted game."

He shook his head in disgust as he bitterly remembered that day.

"He was only three years old and he was being brutally tortured without remorse."

Ja'anya couldn't believe that anyone of her race would do such things to a child. Where was the honor in killing a small child that couldn't fight back?

Alaric mimicked the action of pulling the blades out of his chest.

"I pulled the blades out of my chest and I threw them back blindly, by chance catching their leader in the left eye. Enraged, like he had never been cut open before, he ordered his subordinates to have me thrown against the wall and beaten into submission."

He took a breath.

"They were surprised at how long I lasted and the whole time they were mocking me about how they had hunted down what few family I had looking for me and how the great warrior they had sought after was nothing more then a washed up weakling. With that the leader personally threw me out of the window and everything went black the moment I hit the cold, hard ground."

He looked at his locket.

"As I lay there broken and dying on the ground, I came round only to see my home in flames. Torched to remove all evidence of the atrocities that happened. I could still hear them, screaming as they were being burned alive. My life turned to dust as I blacked out again."

Alaric rubbed his eyes, trying to remember what came next, or maybe in an attempt to hide tears. Ja'anya found it difficult not shed her own tears. He regained his composure as he finished.

"I woke up three weeks later in hospital only to confirm that my entire family line, even those who had been close to me, had been murdered except for me. That was when I retook the Slayer Oath just as my ancestor did. I broke out from the hospital that night salvaged what I could before heading to that hunting planet and here I am."

He stopped then and apparently, from the look on his face he looked a little relieved, like he finally glad that he was able to confess this to someone after all this time. The pressure of not being able to tell anyone had been a heavy weight on him since he first learned of his heritage. Ja'anya didn't know what to say. This man and his whole family line had known nothing but hardships for hundreds of years and when it seemed it was over it had only begun again.

"That is just terrible." She said.

"No, I wouldn't expect any of your race to understand." Alaric said, placing his axe back with the others. "But there you have it, my life story."

"I know that pain of losing a clanmate." She insisted.

"So you lost a loved one then?"

"Yes, my father died when I was a young pup."

Alaric scoffed in mild praise.

"You're lucky." He said. "I never met my father and my mother died in childbirth. Luckily, she lived long enough to see me born. My first kill so to speak."

"You were orphaned at birth too?" Ja'anya asked in shock.

"More or less. My father was in the Marine Corps just like I was and his squad took it upon themselves to raise me. A proper army kid I was. When I was older, they told me that during one operation, he went MIA during the fighting and was presumed dead. That was the official's story anyway."

"What happened to this squad now?"

Alaric stayed his mouth, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Like it was a sensitive subject.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said, firmly "Just leave it at that."

Alaric got off the bed, straining a bit because of his wounds and picked up his axes. He slung his double one in the harness on his back and clipped the hand ones onto loops on his belt.

"I thank you for your hospitality, but I must go back outside and hunt those bastards." He said with a bit of forced politeness while walking to the door.

"Only if you fancy asphyxiating yourself." Ja'anya cautioned, getting off the bed and following him.

Alaric thought she meant those plants that release choking spore clouds. Little did he know that things had changed since he had in a coma for the past week.

"I have dealt with spores before. If your ship is parked near a hedge of them, I'll just hold my breath."

She shook her head.

"That would be impossible as my ship is in deep space now." She said with a slight grin on her face, her mandibles curling up. "I set course back to my clanship shortly after I found you."

Alaric suddenly got a sickening sinking feeling in his gut. He went up to a closed view port, fumbled around for a cover switch and as the panel slid up, he saw nothing but endless space. The stars like pinholes in the curtain of night. He put his hand on his head in frustration. He showed a great deal of self control containing his anger.

'_Calm down Alaric.'_ He thought rationally. _'This might be the chance you were waiting for.'_

He took a couple of deep breaths and he turned back to Ja'anya, his face showing a grudging acceptance.

"Okay, so I guess I'm stuck here." He said, processing this information. "Oh well, I could do with some travel. I had been living in that hell hole of a planet for a year now with no results."

Ja'anya walked up to him, picking up the tray and offering it to him.

"When we get to the clanship in about a week, the Elders will be intrigued to meet you." Ja'anya said. "I know I was."

"I could find out if anyone has any information about those five." Alaric added. "That is if the natives don't try to mount my head on a wall the moment they set eyes on me."

"They won't if I'm with you." Ja'anya assured, slightly offended by Alaric's comment.

He placed his axes back on the stool before accepting a piece of meat. Then he started scratching his head in irritation, careful not to catch the stitches. He munched on his bit of food.

"Now if you excuse me I gotta go clean my hair. Having blood, dirt, and grease in your hair is extremely irritating." He said walked up to the door. "Not that it matters to your kind I think with those dreadlocks."

"What do you mean grease?" Ja'anya asked, suddenly dreading what he was going to say.

"Well, engine grease is the only thing that'll keep my hair standing up like this. So I apologize for your sheets."

He walked out of the room, scratching his head and muttering under his breath. Ja'anya looked at her bed and saw a large nasty looking stained mark where his head been lying, the mark was all spiked like a multi pointed star. She sighed as she clenched her bandaged hand, wincing as she felt a sharp tingle.

She looked at her hand.

"Why won't this cut heal?" She whispered to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three- Adapting.

_Alaric, bandaged and staggering, sifted through the charred remains of his home. He looked around at the skeletal frames jutting out of the ashes. He pictured his home the day his life was taken, torn up and filled with the screams of his wife and child still echoing in his mind. He felt hard flooring underneath the debris and he cleared the surrounding area, barely wincing at his own injuries._ _A trapdoor revealed itself and he pulled it open. Ash slipped past in grey and black streams as the hatch was opened fully, revealing steps. Alaric stepped down them._ _Flicking a torch on, he shone it around the small basement. The only object here was a large, long wooden chest. Hooking the torch on the ceiling, Alaric opened the chest. He looked at the contents before pulling out a cloth bundle. He looked at it for a few moments before placing it aside. He reached back in and pulled out a hand axe._ _The rune on the axe head glinted in the torch light and reflected in Alaric's eyes._

Alaric sat in the bathroom on a stool wiping his hair. His thick hair wasn't sticking up now as it was before because he was washing it to get rid of the stale engine grease in it that kept it up. He had the courtesy of washing his hair in a separate bowl as not to contaminate either the bath or the highly ornate sink.

His boots, harness and gloves was neatly placed behind the stool as not to get dirty by the slag water. The water from his hair dripped into the bowl, making ripples of orange in the bowl that was slowly turning into a dirty orange when the substance that dyed his hair was being drawn out by the grease, reverting his hair back into its jet black state that contrasted with his eyes.

Finding out how to turn the taps on and off took a moment for Alaric to understand but he was quick to learn on how yautja technology worked. There weren't any taps per say, rather retracting panels in the upper rims of the basin

I have got to find a better alternative then grease, he thought as he remembered the day he retook the oath.

_He engraved five runes into his arm, using the black ashes of his home as the pigment. He barely winced as he cut into himself with a knife. When all five runes were cut, he took a hand full of ash and rubbed the ashes hard into his arm. He then repeated the process again and again until the marks were as black as night._ _Picking up his axes and the cloth bundle, he walked back outside._ _He would have his vengeance._

He blotted the memory from his mind as he continued cleaning his hair.

He heard the door slide open and in came Ja'anya she walked past him and went over to the sink unit to check on her cut palm. She removed the bandage and examined the wound. It had stopped bleeding days ago but the flesh seemed unable to heal itself together. She never heard of any blade do this before. Monomolecular blades were supposed to be impossible to make by human hands, save for the famous katana swords of Japanese samurai.

Alaric noticed her cut hand and he looked at his axes. He knew exactly what just have happened.

"So you had touched the axe blade did you?" Alaric said, still wiping his hair, clinging messily to his body and head before he stood up and walked over where he took her hand and examined the cut. "Cuts from them never heal on their own, trust me on that."

Ja'anya watched him as he checked on how deep the cut was.

"Hmm, have you got any needles?" he asked.

"Yes" Ja'anya replied not knowing what he needed them for.

He nodded and went over to his harness which was still on the floor. He opened a pouch on the left chest strap and pulled out a small plexi-glass box.

"Inferno ants" he said, indicating the bright red insects in the box.

Inferno ants are the scourge of floria VII. A whole swarm has to be one of the most lethal predators to ever exist. One account told of how a whole swarm virtually devoured a psuedo-raptor, leaving nothing more then a set of bleached bones in just under an hour.

Ja'anya suddenly looked a bit worried about what he had in mind but she had a surgical needle in her other hand. He came back and took her hand again in one hand and the needle with his other.

"This'll sting a bit, but it works" he said with a slight grimace on his face. "I learned the hard way."

He then gently jab the inside of her cut palm with the needle making her wince, instantly it started bleeding, her florescent blood seeping out of the cut. He held her hand reassuringly before picking one of the ants by it's body, it's pincer like mandibles opening and closing frantically.

He brought it to her cut hand; he pinched the flesh lightly making the wound close before setting the ant on it, it instantly bit into her flesh and she gave a small yelp. A second later Alaric ripped its body of clean from its head, its head still biting.

"Look, continues biting even when it's dead" he remarked. "Earliest suture in existence."

He repeated this until the wound was thoroughly closed and there was a line of heads sticking out of her hand. By now, Ja'anya thought her hand was on fire, but she could feel her cut going numb. Alaric checked her cut to see if it was sealed sufficiently. He had used up all the ants in the box, not that there were many to begin with.

"There you go, give it a few hours and that'll be good as new." He said as he went back to the stool and continued cleaning his hair. "Beats cauterising any day thanks to a certain element in their toxin."

Ja'anya on the other hand felt like her hand was on fire. But secretly, she was impressed by his survival knowledge. There is a rule in the harshest of environments that had been in force since the beginning of time. Adapt or die. That was the only explanation for Alaric surviving on that would with only his axes and no modern technology of any kind.

He picked up the bowl, placed it to the side of the bath, out of the way and got up. His thick hair was now completely black, resting down past his shoulders and down to his waist. He went out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom to retrieve his axes. He looked at the mark on the bed, the great greasy star that was sprawled where his head was. He picked his axes as he looked at it.

Surprised I didn't lose my head for that, he thought. Maybe she's biding her time.

He came back out and he was met by Ja'anya who had now bandaged her hand again.

"So what are you planning to do since you are up and about?" she asked.

"Same thing I've been doing for all my life. Perfect my skills." he said, juggling one of his hand axes. "You can join me if you wish"

Ja'anya thought for a moment before going into her room to change into training gear. Alaric waited outside patiently for her and she came out a few minutes later dressed in a short skirt and vest along with her glaive, the vest only covered the top of her chest, showing off her abdomen revealing her naturally curved physic.

She guided him to the sparing room. it was spacious and had her collection of trophies from her previous hunts mounted on the far wall, Alaric went over and had a look while he was tying his hair back into a ponytail with a shred of cloth.

"Hmm, you killed some bugs. Pretty damn good" he remarked, 'bugs' being the slang term for the xenomorphs by humans.

"Yes. See those three over there," she pointed at the three that was to the far left. "Those were the first ones I hunted, I got them in one slash from my glaive."

"Impressive, though it doesn't make any difference. You can wipe out whole nests of them and they'll still pop out from nowhere" he said.

His memory flashed as he remembered that incident in which he, alone and with only one of his axes, wiped out a whole hive. He refused to give his superiors any details, stating that he would not talk about it to anyone. Despite gaining a breathing space, the USCMC soon found itself back to square one as the xenomorphs repopulated their numbers when extremists arrived on the scene.

He placed the axes down at the edge of the sparing ring and picked up his double handed axe, he thought for a second as he held it.

"Just how tough are yautja weapons?" he asked.

Ja'anya looked at him in puzzlement.

"Why do you ask?" she questioned.

"Because every time I fought a hunter, his weaponry keeps breaking whenever I hit them."

Ja'anya thought she understood what he meant and pulled out from a weapons cabinet several combi-staffs.

She threw one to Alaric which he caught. After a few seconds of examination to see how it worked, he extended the weapon to its combat configuration. He placed it on the floor before readying his axe.

"Just a precaution, I don't want to hurt you…yet" he said to Ja'anya.

With that, he brought his axe down hard on the weapon. In a hail of sparks it had sliced it cleanly in two, the cut edges were glowing.

Ja'anya looked at it for a second with wide eyes. This was not something she expected to see in her life.

"I think your axes are gonna be out of the question." Ja'anya said, pointing a surprised finger. "And for obvious reasons."

"I thought yautja weapons were tougher then human ones". Alaric said, picking the two ends and tossing them out of the ring. "This happens every time I block their weapons with the axe blade."

She threw one of the staff weapons to him and caught it; he looked at it admiringly appreciating yautja craftsmanship with its subtle details. He placed his own axe back down and readied himself.

Ja'anya bowed to him; combi-stick ready and Alaric did the same. He had studied some yautja etiquette from some accounts of others who encountered the yautja and what he saw during his jungle stay. With that Ja'anya charged at him and attacked. He blocked her many stick thrusts and spinning kicks and she evaded his staff swings.

Alaric had to admit that he enjoyed this, the chance for some recreational training then the fight-for-your-life regime back on that planet. He also noted Ja'anya's fighting style, using her smaller then average body to evade attacks more effectively. That would make her an excellent skirmisher.

Ja'anya watched Alaric block her blows without breaking his stride. He showed remarkable endurance far beyond any humans she hunted and had a determined mind. Once he had set his mind on trying to beat her in the ring he wasn't going to let anything stop him.

She locked her stick with his staff and they started to struggle against each other. They had been in this match for roughly three hours, stopping for the occasional rest and Alaric wasn't even tired, but Ja'anya was starting to slowdown yet she still fought on determined. They were both sweating as much as a xenomorph salivates, the sweat on their bodies making their skin shine in the light.

"You don't give up do you" Ja'anya said playfully.

"Nope, Slayers never fight deliberately to lose." he said. "That is no way for a warrior to die"

"So Slayers don't kill themselves?" she said. "Even when there is no hope of victory?"

She pulled the staff away from him with her stick and threw that away before lunging at him. He rolled backwards countering her attack, he put his feet up, caught her on them and pushed her into the air where she landed on her outstretched arms and flipped back up. He got up breathing heavily.

"Suicide isn't the way for slayers. To me, its the coward's way out." he said. "You either accept your fate or don't bother fighting in the first place."

That were some of the things his father's squad quoted from his father, Slayer lore as he called it.

"Interesting teachings." Ja'anya said, raising her stick to prepare for another attack.

Alaric seized his moment.

He charged at her and barreled into her body. He got her around her chest, pulling her down to the floor hard where they landed. She immediately pushed against him, using his weight against him, forcing him onto his back with a notable thud on the padded floor and she sat on top of him, her dreadlocks hanging down.

"Bugger, I fell for that, literally." Alaric panted.

"The hunter had become the hunted." Ja'anya said in victory, looking down at the loser.

They stayed there for what was like an eternity, Ja'anya's violet eyes staring into Alaric's red eyes. None of them knew why they had started to do that untill Alaric came to his senses and pushed her off him, catching the huntress off guard.

"No, I must not let myself get into that again" he said as he pushed back his hair and got up.

He walked over and retrieved his axes and walked out the room. Ja'anya sat there thinking, why did she just stare at him like that?

Whats with me? she thought to herself, trying to make sense of herself. Am I starting to get attracted to this ooman? He cute, strong, wise but…so much pain in his heart.

She looked at her hand and saw the ant heads were starting to come off as they lost their vice-like grip. She unwound the bandage and she gently prised them off. She was surprised and happy that the cut had healed up nicely in such short time. There wasn't even a scar.

He wasn't fooling around, she thought. It is better then cauterizing.

She picked herself up and picked up the discarded combi-staffs before she placed them back into the cabinet, excluding the broken one which she disposed of. She then went out of the room pushing back her dreadlocks and, to her surprise, she saw Alaric in the hallway.

He was sitting on the deck, in one hand was the locket of his wife and son and his eyes were covered by the other. His eyes were shut as if he was meditating and he was whispering to himself indistinctly.

She came over and watched him. The words he was saying was nothing like she had heard before, she never heard any other hunters use them whether mimicking human speech or anything. She placed a hand on his bare shoulder, his eyes jolted open and he looked at her.

"I'm sorry about that" he said.

It was like he was gathering his thoughts about what had just happened. She looked at him reassuringly and sat down beside him.

"Are you alright?" Ja'anya asked.

"Yes, I am." he told her. "Its just you remind me of my wife. She was a medic in the forces and we met when she was tending to a shrapnel wound in my leg."

Ja'anya gave a small giggle.

"I guess history repeated itself when I saw you." she joked.

"I just call it a coincidence" Alaric stated, not chuckling in the slightest.

"What conflict was it when you and her met?" she asked.

Alaric remembered the day perfectly, as it was one of the few days he was happy.

"It was in the Tyran conflict." he told her. "My battalion was sent there to quell down an extremist incursion. The same one where I fulfilled my ancestor's oath. But of course I didn't want to get into a relationship until my oath was fulfilled. She was an incentive as it turned out."

_The priest stood there at the alter as Alaric paced over to him, an axe in his hand. The priest ordered many a cultist to stop Alaric and every single one was cut down. Then the priest had ran out of human shields. The priest could only watch horrified as a blood covered Alaric raised the axe and brought it down on him._ _Alaric felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him as he watched the lifeless body fall down the egg pit's shaft. Then an explosion erupted from below as the priest's suicide charge detonated._ _The grudge had been settled._ _Now, for the first time, he could live._

"Were you meditating?" she asked, her eyes shining with inquisitiveness.

Alaric clasped the locket together and let it drop down on to his tags making them jingle.

"In a way. It helps to bring peace to my mind." he said. "Learned from a Buddhist monk on the trip to Floria VII."

"You meditate often?"

Alaric nodded. He took a breath as what he was going to say, Ja'anya might not believe him. Like before he chose his word carefully.

"In my dreams, ever since their deaths, I can see my family." he explained. "A pale, ethereal vision of themselves. They stand there, tortured in the manner they had been during their final moments, calling for help that never comes.". He took a breath. "Also, I can see a masked warrior standing beside me, Grimnir the first slayer. In times of need, I use his counsel to guide me in my mission."

Now he's showing more familiar practices, Ja'anya thought. He should meet one of the elders.

"You worship your ancestors like my people do?". She said. "I didn't think oomans do that anymore."

"In a way, yes. However, only those of his blood can see him and I'm his only living descendant, it's a complicated matter.". He sighed. "Even then it is only images that I can see. Cryptic most of the time, but I can still see the faces of those murderous bastards, standing there and laughing while my family is being tortured."

He looked at one of his axes, watching it shine in the light.

"Maybe, just maybe, when each of them is dead, then the nightmares will end."

Ja'anya still had her hand on his shoulder as she remembered the day of her father's funeral. It was a sad but necessary occasion.

_She stood hand in hand with her mother as they watched several yautja hunters bear the stretcher with her father's armoured body on it. He had died the previous day, shortly after he returned to the ship with the medicines he had gathered. Despite his fellow healers' attempts, he died of his wounds. The only consolation they had was that the sick were recovering thanks to her father's sacrifice._ _Ja'anya watched as his body was placed in the coffin. His combi-staff was brought forth and placed with him. His mask was then placed on his chest._ _Then her mother and she walked up to him. Her mother touched her forehead to his in farewell and she then lifted Ja'anya up so that she could do the same. Ja'anya touched her forehead to her father's and them she held a small pendent. It was a wood carving that she had made for when he would get back and it was a carving of his favourite plant._ _She placed it on his chest before she was lowered back down._ _The coffin lid closed and the alter sank down into the deck, taking the coffin with it._

Her thoughts were interrupted by an unwelcome guest.

There was an alarm claxon, a high sharp squeal. Ja'anya got up and rushed to the cockpit with Alaric following her. She got to the bridge and was looking out of the view screen. There was a ship, a ship coming right for them at great speed. A Yautja ship no doubt and it looked like the same ship type as Ja'anya's except this one was more, for lack of a better word, evil.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- the first dose of vengeance

"Bad bloods." Ja'anya said, gritting her teeth.

Alaric looked on and a grin started to slowly form on his face. Ja'anya noted that Alaric was looking forward to this.

"Looks like it's time for some real action." He said. "The only true training is in combat."

He ran out of the bridge back to the bathroom to get his weaponry. Ja'anya focused on trying to initiate counter measures. She tried maneuvering her ship out of the other ship's trajectory. However, the opposing ship was matching her every move. _'This is going to be close.'_She thought as she realized there was no escape. The only thing she could do was brace for impact. But Alaric went running off to get his gear.

"Alaric, brace for impact!" She shouted down the hallway.

Alaric had grabbed his axes from the floor on the way before rushing into the bathroom. He picked up his harness when the ship lurched violently to the side. He fell into the empty bath. hitting his head on the angled side of it. He clutched his forehead in pain, blood seeping from between his fingers.

_H__e was beaten to the ground, clutching his side as one of the Yautja kneed him in the head. Blood went spraying and bones went crack as he fell back._ _He could hear the attacker laughing callously at his pain._ _The laughter echoed in his mind as he could feel his life seeping out of his head._

The other ship had launched a cable that hooked into the ship and towed it right towards it before latching to the side hatch. Ja'anya heaved herself from the pilots seat she landed in before heading back to the sparring room. Ja'anya had only time to arm herself with her glaive and she ran to the side hatch where it was already opening.

It opened and, before she had time to react, she was welcomed by a plasma blast that got her in the left shoulder. Before she could recover, a second blast shot the glaive out of her hand and that was quickly followed by a kick to her gut. She fell hard into the deck and she looked at the assailant.

It was a nasty looking Yautja, deep green skin with black spotted markings, wearing armor embellished with numerous skulls of varying size, a smoking plasmacaster on his right shoulder and had a long, curved Japanese style katana in his hand.

She recognized this Yautja from many a wanted poster and it was someone that she'd had no intention of ever stumbling across.

"Sil'cais the scourged." She breathed in horror.

Sil'cais was a notorious rapist and mass murderer that had a massive bounty for his head from the arbitrators and had evaded the enforcers many times. To put it in a simple sense, he was as about as low as a Yautja could possibly degenerate too.

"Ahh, the beauty of Lai'kairis, finally." Sil'cais said gleefully.

He walked over and grabbed her by her dreads before dragging her to her into his ship. She kicked and clawed at him defiantly but it only made him happier, and seemed to encourage him.

"Yes, I like them fiery!" He shouted in glee.

He threw her into his room, it was horrible sight with a huge mass of trophies on the walls of all the people he killed and raped and a separate section of next targets with Ja'anya's own image as the first one marked. She resisted his attempts to get her on his bed but she was wounded from the plasma blasts and was slowly being pushed on the bed by the Bad Blood's heavier weight. Sil'cais ripped off her top with his talons revealing her round breasts. His eyes went wide in admiration and he was about to lean down to lick them when Ja'anya gave him a punch in the face. To the sadistic Bad Blood, it only served as fuel for the fire.

"In case you didn't understand earlier, I like it rough." He said menacingly.

He stuck out his long tongue and gave one long wet lick on her face. Ja'anya couldn't believe the situation she was in. She was going to be violated and then killed, just for this twisted Yautja's self gratification.

"Alaric!" she screamed in desperation.

Before Sil'cais could begin the actual rape, he heard a loud voice behind him.

"Hey fuck-head! Get your filthy claws off her!"

The Bad-Blood raised his head.

"Who dares to call me that…"Sil'cais said turning, but suddenly stopped and a shocked look swept across his face, his mandibles flaring widely as he stared at the apparition before him.

Ja'anya looked past him and saw Alaric wearing only his fatigues, both hand axes in his hands with his blood covered face showing his disgusted expression. Alaric looked at the Yautja with question on his face. His eyes darted over Sil'cais' form, taking in his whole body. It was like Alaric had seen him before. Then his eyes went wide with realization and barely controlled anger when he recalled a previous sight.

The sight of Sil'cais lowering himself onto his wife.

"You!" He ground out in complete hostility, bringing his axes to bear and a snarl forming on his face.

"You!" Sil'cais said in shock, grabbing his sword and standing up, his towering form dwarfing Alaric. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Obviously you Yautja are not effective killers, especially scum like you." Alaric spat back.

He turned to Ja'anya. He noticed how she was now topless and that she had a plasma burn on her shoulder. He knew exactly what had been about to happen and it sickened him to the core.

"Are you okay, Ja'anya?" He asked.

Ja'anya only nodded as she saw that Sil'cais was aiming his plasma-caster at Alaric. Alaric, anticipating an attack, raised his axes. The characteristic three red dots appeared on him as they aimed towards his head. He could only frown at the Bad Blood.

"Oh, come on." Alaric scoffed, raising his axes. "Are you that much of a coward that you're afraid to fight me face to face?"

Sil'cais grinned sadistically.

"No, I'd rather shoot you in the face." He smirked.

The shoulder cannon fired in a blue flash, sending a bolt of energy plasma streaming towards Alaric. Alaric blocked his face with his axes. A blue fiery flash erupted from the impact and Sil'cais snickered.

When the smoke cleared, Sil'cais' grin left his face momentarily. It turned out that his plasma caster wasn't very effective. In fact, it had done absolutely nothing as Alaric lowered his axes. He was not injured in the slightest and his axes were not scratched, melted, or even singed from the plasma. Ja'anya was so completely surprised at that event that she wasn't aware that her jaw dropped.

"I don't know how you did that." Sil'cais spat, aiming again. "But try and stop this!"

His plasma caster charged up, blue energy glowed within. Ja'anya was now concerned. Alaric's axes may have stopped a standard shot but they might not withstand a fully charged blast. Alaric didn't look that concerned as he readied himself.

"Coward." Alaric jeered.

"Say hello to the Black Warrior, Ooman!" Sil'cais roared as he fired the shot.

It looked like a miniature sun as the ball of energy shot streaming towards Alaric and he wasn't even flinching.

'_If it hits him or the hull,'_ Ja'anya thought with fear. _'We're both dead.'_

Alaric then did something very unexpected. He actually swung his axe, hit the plasma bolt with the side of the blade and sent it rocketing back to its shooter. The plasma-caster detonated in a blue flash with the Bad**B**lood exclaiming in both pain and surprise. Ja'anya shuffled further up the bed and saw the result of that aimed ricochet. Sil'cais' weapon was completely blown away, leaving a sparking stump sticking out of his pauldron and the right side of his face suffering first degree burns. He was cursing in Yautja as he ripped off his destroyed weapon. Alaric juggled his batting axe.

"Now," Alaric said, in a serious tone. "I suggest you stop embarrassing yourself and fight like a warrior."

Sil'cais unsheathed his katana style blade with an enraged look on his face.

"You're dead!" He cursed, raising his sword. "Just like your bastard family before you!"

The Bad Blood stampeded forward, yelling a warcry and brought his sword down at Alaric's head. Alaric blocked it with both axes with a loud clang. A brief struggle occurred, and Alaric was showing a great deal of strength, causing Sil'cais to strain in effort. The struggle ended when Alaric pushed both axes and sliced through the blade cleanly, the cut ends were glowing hot.

"What! Impossible!" Sil'cais shouted in disbelief, looking at the glowing stump of the blade on his sword.

He threw the now useless sword away and extended his wrist blades to a length two feet long. He slashed at Alaric wildly, making large gashes in the walls as Alaric nimbly dodged and parried them.

"Stay still!" Sil'cais roared as he tried to gut Alaric with his blades.

"Pathetic! Alaric jeered, hardly breaking a sweat. "You could've easily sliced me into Swiss cheese if you'd been busy fighting real warriors instead of civilians."

The fight raged all around the ship, many things were being slashed and hacked into tiny shreds. Ja'anya was still lying on the bed as she watched them slug it out in the hallway. She had an inkling of suspicion as she determined that Sil'cais was the one who had raped Alaric's wife, given the Bad Blood's background. She watched as Alaric dodged everything that Sil'cais was unleashing. He wasn't even at full health and he was holding his ground.

'_If he's like this when he's still recovering'_, she thought as Alaric kicked Sil'cais in the knee. _'I'd hate to fight him when he's at full health.'_

Sil'cais still had no luck in even laying a scratch on Alaric. The human was just too agile. His mind went into a bend. _'How did this ooman get so strong and fast when he was barely able to fight one year ago?'_

"You wanted to fight the Slayer a year ago, and now you face him, so fight me!" Alaric yelled, swiping with his axes, catching the wrist blades and slicing them clean off.

Sil'cais looked at his blades in shock. Looking back, he saw Alaric casually twirling his axes.

"Not so easy when he actually fights back, is it?" Alaric asked smugly.

Sil'cais backed off, trying to access the situation.

Alaric came walking up to him when he threw the axes to the wall behind him and stood there arms outstretched, apparently goading the Bad Blood into charging at him. It looked like he was trying to test Sil'cais' honor, if the Bad Blood had any.

"Come on then!" Alaric roared. "Finish the job, if you got a pair!"

Sil'cais took his chance. He charged at the slayer, arms out ready to strike him. He got within a foot in distance when Alaric punched both sides of Sil'cais' head with his fists. The Bad Blood reeled back holding his throbbing head before Alaric leaped up, grabbing the fazed Yautja by the head and delivering a mighty head butt.

Sounds of cracking bones filled the air followed by roars of pain. Ja'anya was off the bed in a flash and went out to see what happened and she saw Sil'cais on the floor holding his face in pain, blood spewing out between the fingers between pain filled grunts. Alaric was sitting on the floor cradling his head as if he had a migraine, bleeding from the head more heavily.

"You big baby." He snarled.

Ja'anya came up past Sil'cais with which she gave a strong sharp kick in his side, making him yelp. She helped Alaric up and noticed the gash on his head and covered in blood she saw the glint of metal on his skull. A titanium plate.

"Ouch" She said, looking back at the Bad Blood on the floor, the mere thought of having a plate of hardened metal slammed in the face made her shudder.

"That's gonna hurt in the morning." He said, staggering up to the target of his vengeance. "Not that this bastard is gonna have mornings anymore."

Alaric knelt down over Sil'cais.

"In an ironic way, I should really thank you for this." He said with a grin on his face.

Sil'cais looked at his with a puzzled look from behind his hands.

"If you hadn't broken my skull from kneeing me in the head, I wouldn't have this plate now would I?" Alaric said, tapping his head.

He got up and turned around to retrieve his axes and he picked them up. He intended to finish the job here and now when he heard a cry of warning from behind him.

"Alaric, watch out!" Ja'anya cried.

He turned and saw Sil'cais rushing at him, a serrated dagger clenched in his fist. Alaric was too late to dodge it and the foot and a half long blade penetrated deep into his chest with a sickening crack as it slid through his ribs, penetrating a lung and bursting out of his back, spraying crimson blood on the floor behind him. He was hauled up into the air and was held three feet off the deck, coughing up blood.

"DIE, DIE, DIE!" Sil'cais roared; his face was widening into his sadistic smile albeit with broken mandibles.

Alaric looked into his face, eye to eye and smirked.

"Attacking when I'm not looking, that's really very brave." He jeered. "Coward."

Alaric spat a gob of blood and spit into Sil'cais' eye. Sil'cais wiped his eye with one finger and smirked. The Bad Blood had Alaric right where he wanted him. He was going to finish what he had started one year ago but he decided add more salt to the wound.

"I will violate your friend after I kill you and she'll love every second of it." He said venomously. "Just like your mate did."

Alaric suddenly heard his wife's screams in his head.

Sil'cais drove and twisted the dagger in further, making Alaric strain as more blood seeped out of his body, dripping to the deck till he stopped moving. Alaric's head was swaying gently; his axes fell out of his hands and clanged onto the floor. Ja'anya gasped in horror as she saw Alaric thrown hard into the deck. Sil'cais roared in triumph and then turned his eyes on Ja'anya.

"Now to claim my prize." He said, grinning with his broken mandibles dangling limply. "Let's see how you like a kick in the side?"

Ja'anya positioned herself to fight back. She was ready to fight and die rather then let Sil'cais have his perverted way with her. She picked up a shard of the Bad Blood's shattered wrist blades and took up a defensive posture.

Sil'cais tutted mockingly.

"Now, now." He said, wagging a finger.

"Come any closer and I'll tear it off!" Ja'anya warned him.

"I can think of other things to tear off." Sil'cais mused, indicating Ja'anya intact skirt.

He took a step forward towards her, cracking his knuckles, when he heard several muted grunts. They came where Alaric's slumped body was and they was getting louder and louder. He turned around and to his stunned surprise; Alaric was picking himself up, and climbing to his feet.

'_You have got to be fucking kidding?'_ The Bad Blood thought in utter disbelief.

There was something different about him, they way he was standing and grunting with his head down. His muscles were going into violent spasms, the veins were swelling up, and his muscles were growing slightly. His hair started to stand up on edge and his hands were twitching slightly as he reached and pulled out the blade lodged in his chest in one, swift motion, drawing an arc of blood in the air. He raised his head and there was a somewhat disturbing change. His eyes had changed from deep, limitless red to a penetrating bright crimson and Ja'anya swore that she could see they were glowing.

"I got one piece of advice for you and all the other dishonorable genetic mistakes of your race: NEVER underestimate a Slayer." He said, and his voice had changed into a more deep flanging voice, almost like the vocals of a Yautja.

With that, he snapped the blade like it was made of balsa wood before throwing the two halves to the deck. Sil'cais was now so frustrated at Alaric's defiance that he made a mistake that would cost him dearly.

"Don't you ever fucking die!" Sil'cais roared. "Like your fucking family!"

He charged at Alaric swiping out with a left-hook. Alaric caught the blow in his left hand and they both struggled. Alaric was showing no signs of struggle, in fact he was smiling with a toothy grin. Sil'cais on the other hand couldn't push forward with his attack and he was disturbed by the way Alaric only smiled. Ja'anya was surprised at this sudden show of strength.

Alaric turned his eyes to Ja'anya, like he was signaling her to run.

'_Ja'anya'_, Alaric struggled to think. _'Run!'_

His eyes flickered and what happened next would be a shock to the Ja'anya's system as Alaric turned back to Sil'cais.

"Especially... a Slayer... with the RAGE!" Alaric roared with inhuman volume.

His eyes flashed red, as if all the blood vessels in his eyes ruptured simultaneously, into crimson orbs and his long hair stood up on edge in sharp spikes. Just like they had on Floria VII. Ja'anya's eyes went wide and her mandibles spread out in surprise as she saw Alaric enter this heightened state. The flames in Sil'cais' eyes suddenly withered and died as he only now realized why Alaric kept on surviving, despite his injuries. It was possibly the one thing a Yautja was ever afraid of, and Sil'cais had been antagonizing him from the start.

'Berserker!' Was the only thing Sil'cais could barely whimper out.

Alaric clenched his hand, there was the sound of shattering bone and Sil'cais yelled in pain. Alaric was now delivering a series of high powered punches and kicks in various areas of the body, creating sounds of cracking bones and spraying blood followed by Alaric's roars as he gained momentum. Ja'anya looked on in awe as the tables had turned on the Bad Blood who could barely keep up with the steady barrage of powerful deadly blows.

'_I don't believe it!'_ She thought in disbelief. _'I'm the first to see a Yautja getting the shit beaten out of him by an ooman!'_

That wasn't entirely true as there had been other humans who stood their ground against Yautja and won, but never in a manner like this. Most humans would have to resort to cunning and wits in order to beat a hunter, whereas Alaric was using pent up rage and one hell of an attitude. Her thoughts were brought back to the present when Alaric rammed Sil'cais into an adjacent wall with a roar.

Sil'cais managed to block one of Alaric's blows and punched him in the side of the face. This had stopped Alaric for the moment. He just stood there, like he was slowly registering that he had been attacked. Then he growled with inhuman anger, vaguely in the manner of a Yautja. Then, faster then Sil'cais could move, Alaric delivered a punch that dug right into Sil'cais' gut, knocking the wind and maybe even the lungs out of his chest. Alaric had punched so hard that glowing green blood went dribbling down his arm.

Note of humor: does the phrase 'Falcon Punch!' seem relevant?

Alaric let Sil'cais drop to the floor and watched as bad blood tried to crawl away with a snarl on his face. A click was heard as Sil'cais flipped open his wristpad and he was frantically trying to put in the self destruct code. Ja'anya saw what he was doing and her eyes went wide. There wouldn't be any chance of evading the blast radius if he succeeded. Alaric responded by walking up and stomping on Sil'cais' wrist, breaking bones and the equipment with just his bare foot. The piece of equipment blew up in a shower of sparks and Sil'cais could only gape as his arm bent unnaturally. Ja'anya remembered what Alaric said about suicide and she thought it to be quite fitting at this moment.

'_Suicide is the coward's way out.'_

Alaric grabbed him by the dreadlocks and pulled his head up, ready to deliver the final blow. Sil'cais at this point would have been better off if he didn't say the one thing that really infuriated Alaric.

"No!" Sil'cais screamed in terror, trying to get loose. "Mercy!"

Ja'anya, watching from the side, saw that the word had struck a nerve in Alaric and, to Sil'cais' already long overdue suffering and it only enraged him more. He grabbed the Bad Blood by the neck and hoisted him off the floor until he was barely standing on his toes. He clenched tight, making Sil'cais choke and gasp.

"Mercy?" Alaric roared at the Bad Blood. "You dare to beg for mercy when you showed my family none!"

He brought Sil'cais' face up close to his.

"The only mercy you'll get is the mercy of death!"

He choke slammed the Bad Blood into the deck, then grabbed Sil'cais by the leg and, with remarkable strength, swung him into an adjacent wall with enough force to leave a dent and a green splatter mark. Alaric then grabbed his head and mercilessly pounded it into the deck again and again. With Sil'cais barely conscious, Alaric gave him an eye opener from hell. Alaric picked the Bad Blood onto his shoulder, raised him overhead at arms length, and brought him down onto his knee with a sickening crack. Sil'cais gave off a deafening roar of pain before Alaric slammed him into the deck.

Ja'anya flinched when she heard Sil'cais' spine snap painfully in half.

In a short span of a minute, Sil'cais' shattered body was now nothing more than a twitching and overused, Yautja shaped punching bag! But by some unfathomable means, Sil'cais was still alive, albeit in extremely excruciating pain. Alaric looked at him in the eyes one last time. He held the now near death Bad Blood by his dreadlocks and he had an axe in one hand before roaring one last thing.

He roared something indistinct at the Bad Blood, surprisingly, in a language that Ja'anya had never heard. It sounded like what she thought was archaic Yautja mixed with one of the many human dialects, but in truth, she couldn't tell in Alaric's enraged state.

With that, he swung his axe and decapitated the Bad Blood in a spray of green blood that left a huge trailing arc splattered on the walls. The headless corpse fell to the deck in a bloody, pulverized heap.

Alaric stood there panting, green and red blood covering him, severed head in one hand and his blood soaked axe dripping in the other. He threw his head back and roared long and loud in victory in the same way a Yautja hunter would've celebrated the kill.

Ja'anya couldn't comprehend what she had just witnessed, nor did she care to think about it. She had only one thing on her mind. Ja'anya rushed to him and held onto him in a tight hug, eyes shut in relief that he wasn't dead. Alaric stopped roaring and looked at her with puzzlement evident in his crimson eyes. He could see tears, actual tears, rolling down her face. Tears of joy. He never thought he would ever see a Yautja shed tears of any kind. The odd sight, as mysteriously as Alaric went berserk, had a calming effect on him and he could feel himself feeling more serene and peaceful. His rage was subsiding. His eyes slowly dispersed back into their normal state, his body slowed down and he smiled before dropping the severed head, and the axe in his hands, before he lightly hugged her back.

Then he collapsed backwards to the deck unconscious with her in his arms.

Ja'anya barely had time to brace herself as she landed on top of him. She looked at him, and saw a smile on his sleeping, blood covered face. It was like he had finally achieved some type of peace, for the moment at least.

'_Slayer…'_She thought as she toyed with the name in her head. _'What an incredible warrior.'_

She was on top of a human who had gone from a disciplined marine into a frenzied berserker before falling unconscious again, like when they first met. Despite this, and the fact that she was half naked, Ja'anya was disinclined to move, because she was content just to stay in his embrace for a short time, curling up and purring happily.


	5. Chapter 5

Special thanks to Khalthar for beta reading this and showing me how to improve my writing. it's a big help to me!

Hmm, i'll have to add little forewords to all chapters after this.

Anyway in this chapter, Alaric and Ja'anya are recovering from Sil'cais' attempted raid. And i use the word 'raid' loosely, as you can see what happen to the bastard last chapter.

Alaric and Ja'anya are healing themselves and the bond that is yet to come between them is growing.

* * *

><p>Slayer Chapter 5<p>

A slight rest of several human hours later, Ja'anya had rigged Sil'cais' ship to self destruct and after that they had resumed course. They were back in Ja'anya's bathroom tending to their wounds. Ja'anya suffered only minor scratches and the plasma burns on her body had really been meant to incapacitate rather then kill, so most of her attention was on Alaric. He was out cold for the duration of blowing up Sil'cais' ship and her treatment of him. She sutured his cuts, surprised that he had taken all that punishment, and somehow survived. Then she cleaned him up and wrapped new bandages on him, replacing the blood stained, tattered ones that he had previously. Going berserk like that had taken a lot out of him and she was surprised that his body was healing perfectly in such a short time

'_Seems logical that if his family line has been had to adapt to the harshness of war. It was possible. He's more surprising then I first believed.'_ She thought wonderingly.

She looked at the puncture wound on his chest, where Sil'cais' dagger went digging into his lung. It had nearly sealed up on its own. All she had to do was stitch the entry wound up and his lung would heal fine on its own.

She was tending to her plasma burns, smearing on a restorative salve when she noticed Alaric stirring and grumbling somewhat groggily. She watched as Alaric heaved to one side, holding his head and mumbling loudly. It looked like he had a bad headache. She walked over and helped him up. She looked at his flushed face and saw that his eyes were back to their normal dark red color.

Alaric looked up and down Ja'anya, secretly relieved that she wasn't dead. He took a deep breath and he coughed hard, doubling over with a hand on his chest. He coughed up clotting blood, no doubt from his lungs. Ja'anya gave him several pats on the back and he waved a thanks.

"You're still alive." He said in relief as he looked back at her.

"Yes, I am." She assured him, before gesturing to something next to the sink. "Unlike him."

Alaric saw that Sil'cais' severed head was the object in question. He walked over and picked it up by the dreadlocks. Ja'anya walked over and looked at it with a smile on her face.

"Your trophy." She said with some pride in her voice.

Alaric didn't show any sign of enjoyment at this. He wouldn't have bothered taking the head, because he would rather have left the bad blood to rot. But he understood the significance of it. On the plus side, it would serve as a trump card if any other Yautja tried to kill him.

"Well, maybe there's an advantage taking his head." Alaric said, looking at the frightened expression on the bad blood's face. "I certainly made an impression, pun not intended."

Ja'anya raised an eyebrow. "Pun?" She asked in slight confusion.

"Joke." Alaric explained. "Relevant since he looks absolutely scared to death."

Ja'anya gave a quiet chuckle as she got the joke.

Alaric placed the head back down and sighed. Thank god I didn't completely lose it, he thought thankfully. I don't want to take the Rage out on anyone who doesn't deserve it. The first thing he did was to grab a surgical blade lying nearby and he sat down on the floor. Ja'anya looked on as he carefully scraped away one of the tattoos on his forearm with the blade. He showed no pain as the tattoo was slowly being scraped from his skin. In fact he was smiling.

"Another piece of justice dealt." He said. "My family can rest a bit more easily now."

And maybe the nightmares will subside for a little while, he added in his mind.

Ja'anya watched with a raised eye and continued to check him over while she administered a regenerative serum into his chest to speed up healing, especially since he had taken a dagger hard to his chest. Soon, in place of a jet black tattoo, there was a rune shaped patch of nearly exposed muscle. The tattoo had been cleanly removed.

She watched in silence as Alaric disposed of it in a bowl next to the sink. Ja'anya handed him a vial of clear liquid.

"This will clear up any scarring." She told took the vial and thumbed the cap off. He carefully put on a sizable amount, wincing slightly as he could feel it touch his flesh. He smeared it around to get an even coverage. He could feel the salve seep into his cuts and plug them, forming a tight seal. He was then handed a bandage and he wrapped it around his arm.

When he was finished, he looked at his blood soaked, and stained pants.

"Well, these are gonna need a _serious_ wash to get the blood stains off." He said to himself.

Ja'anya looked at him and smiled. "That can be arranged" she said."I need a wash, and cleaning myself." She got up and went over to the bath, which was essentially a hollowed space in the deck, ten feet square at the far wall underneath a view portal, before running the water, filling the basin with the clear liquid. Alaric continued examining his wounds as it was being run. His body had often surprised even him on how much punishment he had been able to take. Maybe his heritage had something to do with it.

"Ja'anya, can you answer me something?" He asked.

"Yes, what is it?" Ja'anya asked as she turned.

"Is this blood making my hair glow?" He asked, pointing to his hair.

Ja'anya looked at his hair and indeed it was glowing a bright green in places where Sil'cais' blood had landed. She found it slightly comical and couldn't resist giggling.

"I'll take that as a yes" He said with a rueful scratch of his head.

"I think glowing hair looks suitable for you." She said. "In battle anyway."

"Maybe, but it itches more then anything else I've ever gotten in my hair." he commented, scratching his head harder.

By now, the basin had filled with shimmering water with warm steam gently rising off the surface. Ja'anya had stripped off her skirt, which was the only thing left on her, and had sunk into the bath, relishing the warmth of it as it covered her sensitive and injured areas.

Alaric had averted his eyes to give her some privacy. He was busy going over things in his head. He went over the fight with Sil'cais and what he had done to ensure victory with Ja'anya at risk.

'_You knew it was risky going into a Rage when she was there, he thought. There is always the chance you could not stop. If you did kill her then you are trapped in space permanently.'_ He sighed.

'_Alaric…'_He scolded himself. _'You mustn't go into the Rage when innocents are near. But then if you didn't, she would be another victim to that piece of shit. You had no choice but to stop him right then and there.'_ He suddenly realized a little thing. _'If I was in rage, then how did she calm me down? I can barely remember what happened in that state, apart from what she told me.'_

He turned around to Ja'anya who was busy washing her dreadlocks

The water in the bath only reached just above her waist when she was standing. It appeared that she had submerged herself in the bath as she was glistening in the light. Her back was turned to him as she washed herself and Alaric caught sight of the dark contrasting stripes on her back. Casting aside admirations for her beauty for the present, he asked her a question.

"Ja'anya." He began hesitantly while getting her attention. He sighed as he tried to think of the proper way to phrase what he needed to say. "You could have easily gotten killed with me in the Rage. How did you manage to avoid me killing you?"

She looked at him curiously while fingering her dreads. "Rage?" She asked. "You said that, right before you pulverized him."

"Yes I did. Now, you're either very brave, or stupid to even get close to me while I'm in that state." Alaric told her seriously.

"You will have to enlighten me about this state of yours. I wouldn't want you to go crazy like that on board the clan-ship." Ja'anya replied quickly.

Alaric thought about this. Should he tell her about his family's secret? This was something that he had never told anyone, ever. Not even his wife had known about it. But since she had been caught right in the middle of it and came out unscathed then maybe it would be the wise thing to do. She deserved an explanation. He sighed.

"Alright." He relented. "I'll tell you." He then raised a finger. "But on one condition."

Ja'anya wadded to the edge of the bath and sat down, crossing her arms on the bath's edge.

"What I am going to tell you is something that my family has never revealed to anyone." He cautioned her. "I need your promise that you will not tell anyone about it, under any circumstances. Not without my consent at least."

Ja'anya nodded.

He walked over with his harness and sat down at the edge of the bath, crossing his legs. He pulled at a large pouch on his harness. When it opened, he reached in and pulled out a worn, leather bound tome. On its cover was his family's rune. He flicked it opened very carefully and skimmed a few pages looking for that right entry which he found after a few moments. Ja'anya noticed how old the book was and the way Alaric was treating it. That book obviously had great sentimental value to him.

"Well," Alaric started, closing the tome. "the Rage is an inheritable trait that passed down through my line. When a slayer is near death, or stays in battle for extended periods or allows himself to enter the rage, a transformation happens. A slayer loses control over his primal instincts and enters a berserker-like state in which his strength, speed and endurance is increased exponentially. When a slayer is in this state rage he is almost impossible to stop, save for the embrace of someone fairly close. Then the rage dissipates." He looked at her as he put the book back in the harness before slinging it aside. "Personally," he said. "I don't know you managed to quell the rage since I hardly know you."

He sighed.

"I don't know, maybe I was thinking subconsciously about my wife and that was enough."

Ja'anya thought about that. The way she had hugged him after he had slain that bad blood. She had a hunch that had something to do with him calming down. She wondered if he had remembered that.

"Well, I did somewhat hug you after you won that fight." she said, slightly embarrassed.

She looked up at him. He looked lost at that.

"Do you remember that?" She asked.

Alaric tried to remember. Being in his enraged state makes things difficult to remember. But he did remember feeling her wrapping her arms around him. Then the rage started going away as he returned the favor before passing out. Maybe it was Ja'anya who had quelled his rage, not his wife's memory. Alaric looked at her, into her violet eyes. "Yes." He said. "I recall that."

Ja'anya decided to change the subject. "Tell me about your family?" She asked. "What was your wife like?"

He looked at her for a moment thinking of what to say. "Well, for one thing she was inquisitive like you." He said, crossing his arms. "She was also determined, it was very difficult to throw her off something once she set her mind on it." He grinned. "My son was the result of that." He mused. "The look in her eyes when she wanted a kid was really something."

Ja'anya processed the thought in her head. She immediately remembered one huntress on her clan-ship who had went on a bizarre sexual rampage when she was little. The reason for which is that she wanted a child of her own and she went from male to male until she got pregnant. Her father was one of the few males who had managed to get away by sealing himself in a quarantine room. Amazingly, she had ended up coupling with over a hundred males before she was finally pregnant. The males on the other hand had to be in care for several weeks to recover. That event was one of the most memorable things that ever happened on the clan-ship.

"Was she also mischievous?" Ja'anya asked.

"How do you mean?" Alaric asked in confusion.

Here goes, Ja'anya thought as she suppressed a grin.

Then, she grabbed him by the shoulders and with one hard pull he fell in, face first into the bath, making a large splash. The blood in his hair dispersed in the water giving it a slight glowing greenish tinge. He remained submerged for a few seconds, trying to recover from the surprise before he raised his head out of the water, his black hair completely hiding his face. He peeled his hair out of his face, as he shot Ja'anya a seething look. Ja'anya immediately thought that her prank was a bad idea until he started chuckling.

"Yep, definitely mischievous." He said with a laugh. "Though most of the time it would involve me sleeping."

Ja'anya chuckled at Alaric's sudden comical response. She sat back and watched Alaric sit back as well on the far edge and he put his head back and sighed.

This makes a nice change from freezing cold lakes." He said.

"You're not embarrassed by your sudden plunge?" Ja'anya asked him, reaching for something that was the equivalent of soap.

"I sort of thought something was going on behind your eyes, but I didn't expect that." Alaric admitted. "When you grabbed my shoulders, I was thinking 'I'm not getting out of the way of whatever was about to happen.'."

Ja'anya gave a curt chuckle. "You sound much like my brother." She said. "Did your marine brethren know about your...temper?"

Alaric rubbed his eyes and faced her. "In a way." He told her. "They don't know the exact truth, but they do know I have a breaking point." He scrubbed his head for a second to get some blood out of his hair. "And when my superiors knew I that had reached that threshold... well... they knew how and when to back off."

Ja'anya giggled at his analogy. It was simple and to the point.

They had shared the bath for roughly ten more minutes before Alaric heaved himself out. He took a lot of water with him, in both his hair and his pants. Ja'anya watched as he strained his hair into the bath. He was dripping water everywhere. It was a good thing there were several towels nearby so he could mop up after himself.

"Is this room a drier?" Alaric asked, pointing to a sliding door next to the bath while trying to dry his pants.

"It is." Ja'anya said.

"Brilliant." Alaric said, sliding the door open and stepped inside.

Ja'anya climbed out of the bath and picked up a towel, drying herself off as she heard Alaric try to activate the controls. From the sound of things, he was having a slight problem with the controls.

"Warm. Hot. Not cold! Hot!" He shouted as he felt the searing heat inside. "Ah, here we go."

Ja'anya couldn't help but laugh at Alaric's attempt to understand Yautja tech as she emptied the bath.

"Laugh it up, Ja'anya." Alaric muttered from inside. "Laugh it up."

Ja'anya had finished drying herself and wrapped her towel around her chest when the door slid open and Alaric came staggering out. He was flushed from the heat and looked comical as his hair had turned into a big fuzzy mane that stuck straight out haphazardly in every direction. He was busy flattening it as he shut the door.

"Don't start." He said, anticipating Ja'anya to laugh again. He yawned. "God, I'm knackered." He added tiredly.

Ja'anya was a bit tired too and they both thought the same thing. It was time for bed. Sparring for the first half of the day and then having to deal with a perverted bad blood in the second half made for an exhausting day. "Shall we retire?" She asked Alaric while gesturing to the bedroom. Alaric nodded and Ja'anya led the way, flicking the lights off as she went. Alaric noticed something in the sparring room as they walked past. He stopped so he could get a better look. He immediately recognized Sil'cais' so called _'trophy collection'_.

Ja'anya came over to him. "Need I ask?" Alaric prompted.

Ja'anya gestured to him in a memorial manner. "His victims have a right to be buried by their families after being returned to them." She said heavily.

Alaric understood what she meant. There would be many loved ones who had never found out what had happened to their friends, daughters, or mothers. At least now they would be able to learn what happened, and to pay their final respects. There were over fifty skulls of Sil'cais' victims in her sparring ring. Ja'anya pulled his arm to lead him to the bedroom. The bedroom door slid open and they both stepped in. Ja'anya shut the door behind them. Alaric looked at the bed, noticing that the stain of star shaped grease he left this morning was gone. Ja'anya must have changed the sheets when he was recovering from his rage.

A thought came to his head.

"Well, what are the sleeping arrangements?" Alaric asked. "I've hogged your bed for the last week for obvious reasons."

Ja'anya looked at him.

"It is my bed," She started. "But I am willing to share it."

Alaric was immediately shocked by the thought. Sharing a bed with a member of the race that ruined his whole life? But then she did help him when he was injured back on Floria VII. She allowed him the means to hunt down those murderers. Even more, she had indirectly led him to that bastard Sil'cais. He decided that, in a gesture of faith, he'd let this one slip.

"You sure you want to share your bed?" He asked her. "With a human?" He added dubiously.

She simply nodded. He sighed as he walked up to the bed's right side, looking at it. "What side do you want?" He asked trying to sound casual.

Ja'anya went next to him. "I'll take this side." She told him as she indicated which side she would sleep on.

Alaric nodded and he, somewhat gingerly, raised the sheets and sat himself down on the bed before shuffling over to the opposite side. Ja'anya unwrapped her towel and placed it on a stool. She sat down fully exposed and crawled into bed before she pulled the sheets over herself. Alaric had averted his eyes again. Getting in bed with a naked female Yautja was something that Alaric would never, _could never_ have imagined himself doing. He was trying to be calm about this, but it wasn't easy. He figured that her people must sleep 'au natural'. He found it hard to keep a straight face but if there was one thing he could well, it was masking his emotions. He had spent his entire life doing it.

"Goodnight then, Ja'anya." Was the only thing he said before rolling over on his side.

"Sleep well, Alaric." Ja'anya said back.

By some cue, the lights went out and the ship was plunged into darkness. The only lights were the stars shining through the viewing portal. Ja'anya laid herself down with a content sigh. Her body welcomed the comforting feeling the mattress gave and the sheets that covered her. Alaric had already dropped off, judging by his breathing. Alaric had to be one of the heaviest sleepers she had ever known.

_Alaric dreamed of the day's events and now his nightmares had returned, but in a positive note. He saw himself battling Sil'cais in a ring of fire. Axe met sword as they both battled to the death. The tortured forms of his family were present in the flames. Alaric fought with the combined strength of his ancestors as he unleashed a furious, never ending barrage of blows against the bad blood. Then with a mighty swing from his large axe, Sil'cais was decapitated in a shower of flame as he turned to ash. The ashes swirled around Alaric before they soared to his family, engulfing them in a dust storm. Alaric saw as they were slowly healed of their pain, only a small part but it was an improvement. They were now not as tormented as before. Their charred flesh was replaced by cuts and bruises. Alaric felt a burning sensation in his right arm and he looked at it to see one of the runes vanish in a blaze. Then a lithe figure ran from the flames to embrace him in its arms._

He awoke suddenly. He looked around warily as his still groggy mind registered the fact that he was on his back and that he felt a strange but almost comforting pressure on his chest and shoulder. There was also a soft and gentle, but deep rumbling purr coming from his left. He looked to his left and he saw a surprising but sweet sight. Ja'anya was sleeping peacefully with her head on his shoulder and her left hand firmly on his chest. Her soft purring was what he could make out as a secure, protected happy purr.

_'Brilliant'_, he thought with a light tone of annoyance.

He tried to gently pry her arm off him, but when he applied the slightest bit of pressure, she quickly tightened her grip. Ja'anya's mandibles flexed as she gave off a small whimper and shifted her head closer to him. He then felt a leg wrap around his. Alaric then decided at that point not to try anything else. It was obvious that Ja'anya felt safe in his presence, especially after what had happened today. She had been almost raped and would have been murdered by one of the most hated bad bloods in her race's history. She wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for him. Maybe this was her subconscious way of thanking him. Either way, Alaric chose to let her be.

_'Oh well.'_ He thought idly. _'Might as well get some sleep. I'll let her have her way this once._'

He sighed as he closed his eyes and slowly drifted back to sleep. He didn't know it, but sometime after he dozed off again, his right hand came to rest on top of Ja'anya's and lightly grasped it. Ja'anya shifted in her sleep again and let off a long happy purr of purest content as her hand clasped his.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey All!

thanks for all the enthusiastic support for this story and be sure to share it with your friends.

Khalthar: Thanks for Being a beta reader for me.

NothereNorthere: true to what you said. it's allways about Yautja males with human females but never the other way round. there should be more pairings M/human and F/yautja.

Anyway, in this chapter Alaric and Ja'anya wake up to a new morning and thier bond grows more deeper.

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><p>Chapter 6- A new beginning.<p>

Ja'anya clicked her mandibles, and shifted in her sleep while she dreamt. She was dreaming of her childhood, and the time when her father was still alive. She fondly dreamed of how he would take her to various botanical gardens to play catch, or see the different wild animals in their individual pens. She really loved it when he would carry her on his shoulders so that she pick a piece of fruit from one of the trees. To her, those had been the special days. It had truly broken her heart when he died, but she still had her mother who both loved her, and provided for her. She eventually got over the loss, thanks to her mother's huntress training. The meditation involved helped to ease her heartache and pain.

Ja'anya sleepily opened one eye when she heard a cough. She could hear a heart beating a firm solid rhythm beneath her head. The beat was slow and relaxed, but strong and steady. The soothing sound was almost like a lullaby to a small child in the embrace of its mother. It was reassuring and comforting. Ja'anya felt strongly tempted to fall back asleep. The first thing she saw when her vision came into focus was her hand. Then, she noticed that she was clasping Alaric's hand with her own.

She had been resting her head on Alaric's chest, and holding his hand in her sleep!

'_Oh my!' _She thought in shock.

She felt her dreadlocks parting and she felt Alaric's hand cup the back of her head gently. She couldn't stop herself purring softly as she felt his soft touch. She turned her head, still purring and she saw him, awake and watching her. To her relief, he didn't look upset or offended by any of this. He just had a neutral look on his face that slowly turned into a smirk. Ja'anya on the other hand blushed deeply.

"Have a nice sleep?" Alaric asked casually with his eyes shining in the dim starlight.

"Yes." Ja'anya answered.

"Good! I'm glad considering that mess you went through yesterday."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Only just woke up. You looked peaceful and content though; so I decided to let you sleep." Alaric gestured to her hand clasping his.

Ja'anya looked at her hand and gingerly unclasped her hand from Alaric's. She sat up in bed and the sheets fell from her back. Alaric caught sight of her bare chest but he didn't react to it. Ja'anya, from the look in her violet eyes, was slightly embarrassed by these events.

"I apologize about that." She said, moving to get out of bed.

She turned her back when Alaric sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stopped as she felt his hand on her shoulder. She felt his touch, his reassuring gentle grasp on her shoulder.

"It's okay." He assured her. "You needed comfort and, well, I didn't want to disturb you last night."

She was touched by his words, and she raised a hand and clasped his. "Thank you." She said sincerely.

As she got up, the lights flickered on, and she reached for a gown in her wardrobe. Alaric got off the opposite side, bending down and rubbing his neck. He then got up and stretched, making a few joints pop.

"That's _much_ better." He said to himself.

He watched as Ja'anya went about making the bed, folding the sheets back into place. He stepped in to help her, cleaning up his side. Ja'anya couldn't help but give a small smile at him, and she couldn't help but giggle when she heard a rumbling coming from Alaric's stomach.

Alaric looked at his gut.

"Shut up." He ordered his stomach in a comical fashion.

He was answered by a laugh from Ja'anya, followed by an answering rumble coming from her stomach. Ja'anya held her abdomen and clicked her mandibles.

"Looks like some of us are hungry." Alaric said, tying his hair back.

"It seems that way." Ja'anya confirmed.

Alaric walked out of the bedroom and headed towards the kitchen. Ja'anya followed him there and she saw Alaric stop and stare while looking at the kitchen unit. He could see that there was a stove-top cooking unit, a circular sink, and the numerous sliding doors of the storage units. Ja'anya came up behind him.

"What would you like?" She asked curiously.

Alaric thought for a second before he turned to Ja'anya.

"Surprise me." He said. "I wouldn't know the first thing about Yautja cooking."

"It's not that hard." Ja'anya told him "Here, I'll show you."

She went up to one storage unit and opened it. The unit revealed itself to be a refrigeration system and she pulled out something. It sort of resembled an armadillo except it was a reptile rather then a mammal. It was roughly a meter in length and it had rather nasty looking clawed paws and a club like tail. She placed it on a table near her and Alaric recognized the meal in question.

"You caught a pygmy ankylosaur." Alaric said, looking at it. "Very high in protein. That is, if you can manage to crack the shell."

Ja'anya smiled at his enthusiasm.

"My first one." She told him. "The number of times my blows just bounced off it was amazing."

She picked a knife from an over hanging rack and she started to judge where to start cutting it. Now, because this was the first one she ever caught, she didn't have any idea where to start. This animal is protected by a hard segmented carapace that proved resistant to blades. Alaric watched her make the attempt as she first started at its head. Then, when that failed, she tried to go from its tail.

Alaric stayed her hand and she looked at him questioningly.

"Here, let me show you. There's a method to cleaning these things." He told her easily.

He took hold of her hand and guided her to the small gap between the reptile's head and shoulders. He deftly guided the tip of the knife in. Ja'anya would have been lying if she said she didn't enjoy the close contact. She liked how he guided her hands to the right location. He had the hands of warrior yet there was a softer, caring side to them.

"Right here." Alaric indicated, letting go of Ja'anya's hand. "Now, just smack the butt of the knife with your palm."

"Are you sure?" Ja'anya asked. "My knife isn't going to bounce back at me?"

"Positive." Alaric assured her with a smile as he steeped back to watch her.

Ja'anya decided to go for it. She brought her free hand back and smacked the butt of the knife. Instantly, the shell went popping off of the dead reptile with a loud crack, sending it flying into the air and clattering to the floor some distance away. Ja'anya was surprised at that as Alaric picked the carapace from the floor, flipped it over and showed her the inner shell.

"See here?" Alaric said, pointing to a honeycomb network of bone in alignment with the animal's spine. "The bone here is connected to the animal's spinal column and is designed to absorb impact." He then thumped one of the other plates to demonstrate his point. "But, get a knife under there, in the right spot and it's like shelling a shellfish."

Ja'anya was again impressed by his knowledge.

'_Warrior, hunter, survivalist,'_ She thought with admiration. _'__Hard to believe he's not a Yautja_._'_

De-shelling the meal was both productive and fun, watching the carapace segments spin in the air. Alaric was catching them deftly, and even went so far as to catch one on his head to Ja'anya's amusement. Now they had to prepare the meat. Ja'anya let Alaric do the gutting and she watched closely as he flipped the carcass on its back, deftly opened up its chest cavity and removed all the interior organs. He sorted out what could be used for later and what was offal. Living off the land for over a year had taught him a great many lessons, such as how to make the best use of the resources available. He severed the stomach and then chucked it into the sink without even looking in that direction.

"Clean that out later." He muttered as he resumed working. "Where are those shells?"

Ja'anya handed him the shell segments and he took them before arranging them. He had now separated the heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver into a shell each while he kept all the offal in a pile. Now all he had to do was behead the thing. He looked at his blood covered hands and he turned to Ja'anya, who had clean hands because she had not done any of the bloody work.

He grinned. "Care to do the honors?" He asked her, gesturing to the head.

Ja'anya enthusiastically nodded and hurried off to get one of his axes. She came back with a hand axe and Alaric positioned her aim to the target and adjusted her grip.

"Gently." Alaric told her as he stepped back. "Don't want to reduce the table to kindling."

Ja'anya gripped the axe carefully as she slowly got the feel of it. Then she carefully brought the axe down. The axe went into the neck with a nice solid hit and the head went rolling off the table before bouncing on the deck. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a head roll because of one's own effort.

"Very nice." Alaric said, going to the sink to wash his hands.

Ja'anya went about cutting the animal up while Alaric busied himself in dealing with the stomach. He pinched the intestinal entrance of the stomach shut with one hand and grabbed the stomach with the other. He then squeezed the stomach, to get rid of whatever the reptile had been eating before its death.

"Urgh!" Alaric said with disgust. "What the hell has this thing been eating?"

Ja'anya turned around to see what Alaric was complaining about and immediately wished that she hadn't. Hanging from the esophagus opening was a gelatinous, putrid mass of unidentifiable matter. The smell coming from it was horrendously awful. It was a combination of bad fungal rot and decaying plant matter. With one big squeeze, a great big mass of the stuff plummeted into sink as one big gelatinous mass. The smell was overpowering and it was truly repulsive just to look at.

"Oh, for the love of god!" Alaric cursed fervently. "It's moving!"

Ja'anya went pale green as she tried not to throw up. She muttered something in Yautja as she watched Alaric pick up the offending matter. Ja'anya gestured to a hatch which she opened and Alaric threw the revolting mass through the hatch. Ja'anya sealed it up the moment the mass was in.

"That was absolutely minging!" Alaric was able to say now that he could breathe clearly.

"Minging?" Ja'anya wheezed in question as she was hitting a button.

A whoosh sound was heard as whatever that mass was vented into space.

"Repulsive." Alaric explained, furiously scrubbing his hands under the running water.

After that unpleasant experience, breakfast was already on the way as the ankylosaur legs was now roasting over open flames. The rest of the animal was back in the ice box. Alaric had thoroughly cleansed the stomach, the reptile's organs, and was now finely chopping those organs into mincemeat with his axe. Ja'anya had changed into more suitable clothing and was preparing some fruits as she watched him at work.

"What are you making?" She finally asked when curiosity got the best of her.

"Haggis." Alaric replied while grabbing a handful of mince and stuffing it into the stomach.

"Haggis?"

"A Scottish dish. Animal stomach filled with its organs, and then baked or boiled depending on preference."

"Sounds appetizing." She answered as she began salivating from the mere thought of such a dish.

"It is. When you're out there in the wild, make every piece from a kill count."

Alaric checked on the cooking meat to see if it was ready. The smell coming from it was like roasting pork. The meat had turned a golden brown and was looking delectable. He resumed working on the haggis, finishing the stuffing before he sealed off both ends with a needle and thread. He juggled the finished haggis in his hand like a sportsman would with a ball. He saw the amputated tail from the ankylosaur next to him. He was reminded of the time when he last ate ankylosaur, how a pack of scavenger dinosaurs had attacked him and the way he'd used the tail as a makeshift club. It was amusing watching those lizards scamper away when they realized there was no dinner for them that night.

"Breakfast is made." He announced as he was placing it back on the table.

He looked at the roasting meat, taking one leg off the flames before slicing a slither of meat off. The meat was fully cooked and tender.

"Hey Ja'anya." He called.

Ja'anya looked up from cutting the fruit. Alaric brought the piece of cooked meat to Ja'anya and offered it to her.

"Get this down you." He said.

Ja'anya took the piece and bit into it, not expecting what ankylosaur tasted like. She chewed for a moment before biting more meat. She found that it had a full, juicy texture and had something of a sweet aftertaste.

"This is great." Ja'anya managed to say after she finished that test piece. "Blotting out whatever it was eating from my mind, this is quite nice."

Alaric handed her the rest of the meat before walking back to the stove to get his piece. He also grabbed some of the shell segments to use as makeshift plates, after washing them before hand. He walked back over and handed Ja'anya one of the shells. She placed her meat into the shell and placed it on the table as Alaric sat down next to her.

"Bon appetite." He said with a grin before taking a bite from his own piece.

Ja'anya, as she ate hers, noticed that his face had started to grow coarse stubble. If there was one thing that she thought was strange about Alaric, it was that he didn't seem to have much body hair. From what she had seen of his exposed body, only his head had any hair. She came to the conclusion that he must shave his body regularly.

Unable to resist her curiosity, she held out a hand to his face and felt the side of his cheek. Alaric stopped whatever he was doing when Ja'anya touched him. She moved the back of her fingers around his cheek, feeling the stubble scrape her skin. Alaric just sat there as he felt her feel his cheek, not moving an inch and staring off into space.

_He woke up to the feeling of his cheek being caressed. He looked up from the pillow and saw his wife smiling. He smiled as he placed his hand on her cheek. Then he heard soft footsteps pattering into their room, lifting his head and seeing his son running up to them. His son jumped on the bed and cuddled up to his father._

"Alaric?" Ja'anya asked, concerned when she saw that he wasn't reacting.

Alaric blinked and turned to Ja'anya.

"Alaric?" She asked again with a touch more urgency.

Alaric took a breath.

"Sorry." He said, his voice calm. "Memory flashback."

He resumed eating his piece of meat. Ja'anya watched him with concern and slight puzzlement from his sudden change in mood.

'_Was he just thinking about his mate?'_ She thought suddenly.

"Alaric, are you alright?" Ja'anya asked, concerned.

Alaric wiped his mouth and coughed into his hand.

"Blasted flashbacks keep coming back whenever they feel like it." Alaric said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Disadvantage of a good memory, don't know what will set them off." He turned to her. "That out of the way, had a feel of my cheek?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that." Ja'anya apologized.

Alaric chuckled. "Yeah well, I never really shave as my facial hair never really grows." he said, scratching his face. "It only gets to the stubble that you're seeing now. In fact, not much body hair grows either. Do you want me to shave?"

Ja'anya shook her head. "No." She replied grinning. "Personally, I think it suits you. I was just seeing what it felt like."

"Feels like a coarse brush doesn't it?" Alaric said.

Ja'anya brushed her hand on his cheek again before curving her fingers round his chin. She felt the growing hair scratch her skin.

"Yes, it does." Ja'anya confirmed.

"That's nothing. If you can get it coarse enough you can actually light a match with your face." Alaric added.

Ja'anya sat up in attention.

"Is that really possible?" She asked in surprise.

"Yes." Alaric confirmed before chuckling. "The first time I tried was when someone from my Spec Ops team needed a light. I struck the match on my jaw, forgetting I had flammable powder on my face from the mission. You can guess what happened next."

Ja'anya imagined seeing Alaric's head engulfed in a fireball with him flinching in surprise.

"That wasn't a smart thing to do was it?" Ja'anya said, chuckling.

"Stupid but funny." Alaric stated, chuckling with her. "My head went up in a fireball and when the smoke cleared, I was standing there, face black, my hair smoking and my eyes as wide as saucers. I remember my comrade standing there in shock and staring at me and all I said to him, with lit match in hand, was 'Well, do you want a light or not?'."

"And what did he do?"

"He just lit his cigarette and said 'Kid, do yourself a favor and don't ever smoke'." Alaric finished.

They spent the rest of the morning eating the ankylosaur and talking to each other. The boundaries between their respected species were slowly starting to lower as they began to understand each other. Ja'anya saw that Alaric was actually much more laid back and sociable as they talked. It was a stark contrast to his usual more serious and independent side. She thought that he must a difficult person to get open himself up to people, what with his background.

Alaric quickly found that he was second guessing himself as he listened to Ja'anya talking about her life. Since he was a child, he had always thought of her race as nothing more then bloodthirsty and murdering raiders; not that such ideas weren't without justification. But now he learned that those were just the bad outcasts of her race. He learned that her people were not all that different from many of the human warrior cultures. Ja'anya herself appeared to be a loving, brave, and compassionate huntress with a cheerful and optimistic personality.

He would have been seriously lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy her company.

"One thing I've been meaning to ask," Ja'anya said, pointing to Alaric's tags. "I saw an emblem of some kind on the back."

Alaric finished eating a piece of fruit before answering.

"My tags?" He asked. "Oh, right."

He took on tag in his hands and flipped it over. The emblem on the back was in the shape of a broadsword with wings. Underneath the emblem was a phrase embossed in english: WHO DARES, WINS.

"This is the emblem of the British SAS." he explained.

"SAS" Ja'anya asked.

"Special Air Service." Alaric clarified. "I spent a few years training with them, the tags are a souvenir. A very interesting group of soldiers, possibly the best Spec Ops on earth." He chuckled. "Should be because my mother was SAS." He said. "Too bad my initials were AFM."

"AFM?" Ja'anya asked. "What does that mean?"

Alaric smirked.

"Absolute Fucking Maniac!" He told her, chuckling. "My comrades nicknamed me that for obvious reasons."

Ja'anya laughed at that statement.

"Yes, you _do_ get a bit crazy if you're pushed far enough." She said stating the obvious. "But what do the words mean?"

Alaric looked at his tags.

"Personally, I think it relates to how the SAS take on the most dangerous assignments and always come out on top." Alaric said. "In a sense, I think it suits a Slayer perfectly."

They finished eating their breakfast before Alaric got up, picking up his shell plate before offering a hand to Ja'anya. She clasped his hand and he pulled her up before he walked over to the sink. Ja'anya watched as he cleaned up after himself, wiping the knives they used and his axe clean. Ja'anya saw how he carefully handled his axe. That and the other two were all he had of the father he had never met. Ja'anya couldn't help be feel sorry for him about that. At least she still had a parent.

"Well, I'm going to train for a few hours." Alaric said, walking off to get his other axes. "Feeling good for a match?"

Ja'anya smiled as he moved into the sparring area. He picked up his axes and he felt Ja'anya behind him. He could hear a rather pleased purr escape from her mouth.

"I'll be right back." Ja'anya said, heading off to her room.


	7. Chapter 7

Special Thanks to Khalthar for beta reading my chapters, past and future, in advance.

In this chapter, Alaric and Ja'anya arrive back at her clan ship and things get a little interesting over a little misunderstanding. Alaric asserts his presence as one who is not to be annoyed.

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><p>Chapter 7- Welcome home.<p>

The passing days on the journey back to Lai'Kairis were filled with numerous training sessions as Alaric practiced his skills with his axes any chance he got. Ja'anya would often join him for these sessions, while on other days she would sit them out, just to watch Alaric practice on his own. She sometimes found it a bit annoying when he would get up ridiculously early to train.

Ja'anya had never known someone to train this much. He practiced with every style of combat he knew, be it with his axes or with his fists. He was almost like a well oiled machine the way he was moving fluidly. Ja'anya saw the form that he used when unarmed, mixed martial arts as humans called it. No doubt this was the standard art form for the colonial marines. She had a bout with him before, in hand to hand combat, and she had almost lost the match and only her superior agility over Alaric's endurance tipped the match into a draw.

A close draw.

Alaric took it upon himself to learn the Yautja language. He figured that if he was to hunt down those Yautja who took his family from him, then he would need to learn more about their ways. Running into Sil'cais had been just a coincidence. Ja'anya was more then happy to oblige. In return, Alaric gave her a few pointers on how to focus in combat. He taught her how to mentally block out other influences, namely pain, and several evasive maneuvers that he used to navigate the dense jungles of Floria VII. The style that he said it was called was Parkour or 'The art of movement' which involves adapting one's movements to those of the environment to fluidly pass obstacles. While this was impossible to demonstrate fully on her ship, Alaric had promised to teach her when they arrived at Lai'Kairis.

Over the days that they sparred together, Ja'anya began to understand more of this human. He talked to her about his time in the marines and she would talk about her memorable hunts. One such event that Alaric had been in was a clean up operation for the infamous Weyland-Yutani Corporation after one of their 'experiments' went awry. Alaric often wondered why the Company even bothered trying to harness the aliens since every attempt ever made, had failed miserably every single time. He was just fifteen at the time and the Company had expressed interest in 'recruiting' him but the USCMC fervently denied that from happening.

Ja'anya told him of one of her first hunts, how she and several other hunters went down to hunt xenomorphs on this volcanic world. The heat was the stuff of legend as she managed to hunt four warriors before they had to leave when the planet was erupting. That planet was extreme, even by Yautja standards, and to return alive from that planet was an achievement regardless if you brought back any skulls. Unfortunately, one clan-mate died on that hunt but his body was recovered for a proper burial.

Alaric commented that would be one place he would have to see. To him it sounded like a perfect challenge. Ja'anya was intrigued by his love for a challenge. Alaric said that it was the best way to train, seeking out progressively tougher obstacles. However, there was one thing that she was more than concerned about in regards to him when they arrived at Lai'Kairis.

She wondered how he would fair while going through the clan rites when the time comes.

Alaric was busy doing press-ups in the sparring ring. He had been at this for over an hour this time and he didn't show any signs of stopping. He even went as far as putting assorted heavy objects on his back to increase resistance. Ja'anya walked into the room, having just awoken and dressed in a flowing gown and she saw what looked like her entire armory strapped to his back. All her weaponry, her armor and equipment were balanced precariously on his back as he pumped up and down. He was so focused that he didn't notice that she was in the room until a shadow fell upon him.

"Morning." He greeted in Yautja without breaking a stride. "And one thousand."

He stopped and he carefully removed the things on his back. Ja'anya went about putting her things back into their lockers. Alaric sat up and flexed his arms. Ja'anya shut the lockers and walked over to Alaric.

"Morning to you too." She greeted back in the same tongue as she crouched down to his level. "How long have you been up?"

"Only an hour." Alaric answered.

Ja'anya pushed her dreadlocks back.

"That is appropriate." She said. "In the future, I would appreciate it if you asked before using my entire armory."

"Well, it wasn't as good as I thought. They didn't have much weight they would."

Ja'anya motioned him to follow her. They walked out into the hallway as she led him to the bridge. She pointed to her holographic screens, the language of course was difficult for Alaric. He had been trying to understand the language and he had made some progress but learning to articulate the sounds and pronunciations was taking time.

From what he could understand, their journey to the clan-ship was nearly over.

"We will be arriving at Lai'Kairis within two hours." She told him. "We have to be ready."

Alaric nodded.

"Right, I better get prepped then." He said.

"Better get some breakfast as well."

He walked back out to gather his things. Ja'anya followed behind him into the sparring ring.

"Alaric, there is something I must tell you before we land." She said.

Alaric picked up his harness and strapped it on.

"And what would that be?" he asked.

Ja'anya clicked her mandibles a few times before she told him.

"You are the first ooman to have ever been brought to my clan-ship, alive." She told him. "There is the possibility that they won't be prepared for the idea."

"Don't worry." He assured her. "I'll manage."

'_I've been managing for my whole life.'_ He thought. "So, I guess we should get freshened up first." he continued, removing his harness as he remembered.

Ja'anya nodded and they walked to the bathroom. As it turned out, the drier room doubled as a sauna and Alaric had yet to use it that way. Mainly because he was wary of it after the last time he used it. He stepped inside and sat down as he waited for Ja'anya, getting into a meditative posture. Ja'anya came inside, wrapped in a towel. She tapped a few buttons on the pad and the temperature rose steadily.

Alaric sighed as he shut his eyes and leaned back against the insulated wall. He felt Ja'anya sit next to him and, to his eye opening surprise, leaned on his shoulder, and started softly purring. He chuckled. There was only one thing she wanted in a sauna since the day after Sil'cais. Something that she felt was extremely pleasurable.

"You want a massage, don't you?" He said.

Ja'anya didn't need to answer as she laid across his lap with her dreadlocks parted and her striped back exposed to him.

Alaric sighed as he went to work massaging the muscles in her back. Ja'anya's purring quickly got louder. Alaric had skill as a masseuse, mostly for personal medical reasons such as relieving swelling and dislocated joints, and Ja'anya was enjoying every second of it.

"I get the feeling your shoulder healed days ago." Alaric said, massaging her lower back.

Ja'anya merely purred suggestively and flexed her fingers on the bench, her talons digging into the hard wood.

Lai'Kairis was a sight to behold. It was one of the few mega-class colony ships ever built, the size of a small moon. It was visually like many other clan-ships apart from a more streamlined and less imposing structure. That said, it didn't mean that Lai'Kairis was harmless as the ship packed enough firepower to hold off a large invading force.

Ja'anya guided her ship closer to the Lai'Kairis as Alaric stood behind, staring at the clan-ship in both awe and determination. Despite what Ja'anya told him that he would not be in any danger, he was not going to let his guard down.

"By my ancestors." Alaric said, crossing his arms. "This makes Gateway station look like an escape shuttle in comparison."

A chime was heard as they were being hailed. Ja'anya answered it, talking in Yautja as she identified herself. She left out Alaric, not wanting to cause any type of incident until they docked and Alaric could be formally introduced. She piloted her ship through to the indicated hanger.

The ship landed in the hanger bay with a soft thud. Ja'anya powered down her ship as docking clamps locked her ship down. She had changed into her armor earlier and had her glaive retracted and holstered on her back. She powered down her ship, listening to the engines relieving themselves. Alaric walked back into the ship for final preparations. Ja'anya got off her seat and followed him.

Alaric was by the landing ramp, fully dressed, and armed. He had his long spiked hair tied back, his axes in their holsters and in one hand he had a sack with him.

"Is that what I think it is?" She asked him, pointing to the sack.

Alaric merely nodded. It was evident that he had the item of great significance in the sack and they had both decided not to reveal it unless they have to. Though personally, Alaric said he shouldn't have to wait that long to reveal it.

Ja'anya pressed a switch on the wall and the landing ramp slowly lowered itself. She turned to Alaric with a look of warning on her face.

"Alaric, stay here until I call you." She told him seriously.

Alaric nodded. It was wise to let Ja'anya tell them rather then have a human suddenly appear from her ship. Alaric moved a few steps back into the ships interior as Ja'anya paced down the ramp. He kept himself out of sight until Ja'anya called for him. He gripped the sack in his arms.

I'm getting closer, he thought with anticipation. Slowly, but I'm getting closer.

Ja'anya saw her welcome committee waiting for her as she walked down the ramp and into the hanger bays. It was bursting with activity. Ships dotted the area, either hunters returning from their trips, traders with their precious cargo, or visitors from neighboring clans. There were several fellow huntresses in armor and war gear, an Elder in ornate robes and a few un-blooded Yautja waiting at the bottom. One of them was a young tan and dark brown striped male, who was bulky with sharp amber eyes. He was immediately happy to see Ja'anya come down.

He walked up to her and gave her a hug. Ja'anya returned the hug from the bigger Yautja.

"Welcome home, little sister." The male said, letting go of her.

Ja'anya smiled at her younger and much larger brother. Despite his size he was very optimistic and gentle. A gentle giant to her.

"Kra'vyx." Ja'anya said back.

Her brother looked at the skulls that she had on her belt.

"Your hunt has been good?" He asked with a meaningful look at her belt.

"It has." Ja'anya answered. "How has mother been?"

Kra'vyx chuckled.

"She's still as strict as ever." He mused. "Half the time, I keep expecting a smack over the head for every mistake I make."

"Well, when you pass your Chiva, you won't have to worry about such strictness again."

Kra'vyx smiled as the huntresses and the Elder walked up. The Elder had a serious but relieved look on his face. They towered over the smaller huntress.

"Huntress Ja'anya, it is a relief that you are alive." He said with concern in his voice.

"Elder Kal'deris?" She asked.

One of the huntresses spoke up.

"Elder Kal'deris chose us to find and escort you back to Lai'Kairis when we heard that Sil'cais the scourged spotted was in your sector." she said.

Ja'anya was surprised at this information. Kal'deris was going to send her an escort back to the ship? If they had found Alaric with her, there's no telling what would have happened. She couldn't blame him. Kal'deris was one of her father's closest friends and he was the father figure to her and her brother when they were growing up. He had promised her father to keep them safe if anything was to happen to him. Ja'anya went over in her head what to tell them. They didn't know that Sil'cais had found her or that he was now dead by Alaric's hand.

"Ja'anya, you have gone quiet." Kal'deris pointed out.

Ja'anya took a breath. She noticed her brother watching with a concerned look in his eyes. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Elder." She said, hesitatingly. "Sil'cais did find me."

Shocked murmurs erupted from everyone. 'How did you survive?' and 'What happened?' came up as questions. Sil'cais was not one to keep a plaything after using it, nor was he one to leave any survivors.

"Elder, I had help in fighting him." Ja'anya said.

Everyone stopped talking as they listened.

"A fellow hunter arrived to help you?" Kal'deris asked imeediately interested in what she had to say. "Was he from another clan?"

Ja'anya shook her head.

This is awkward, she thought. How do I tell them that an ooman saved me?

"There's someone you should meet." Ja'anya said, gesturing to her ship. "My savior is on the ship."

She held a hand out when the Elder moved to walk past her to enter the ship. She stepped in front of him.

"Elder, please." She said with warning in her tone. "Don't do anything to offend him. It would be unwise to do so."

Everyone was confused as to what she meant when she turned to her ship.

"Alaric." She called out.

A moment passed before steps where heard from inside her ship. Then a pair of armored boots and greaves appeared down the ramp, followed by marine fatigues with two axes holstered to a belt. One of the huntresses', a light green and mottled blooded Yautja, eyes went wide as she saw them and blinked nervously. Her fellow Yautja noticed how she was starting to shake. What on earth could make a huntress get agitated like this?

Alaric came fully into view, carrying the sack under his arm before stopping at the bottom of the ramp.

Alaric looked at the procession and immediately noticed that every Yautja in the hanger bay was looking at him. He looked around and clicked his tongue as he thought as what was going to happen. More and more Yautja were gathering as they set eyes on him. Most were bearing weapons while others were what you could call civilians by lack of weapons. There were even some children looking at him with curiosity.

'_My skull's gonna go on a wall.'_ He thought. _'I just know it.'_

"It's that blood crazed ooman from that jungle world!" The huntress suddenly blurted out.

Alaric looked back at her. He remembered this huntress as one of the Yautja he had fought back on Floria VII. One of the wrong ones. He had almost run her through a patch of razor-vines before realizing she was not one of the Marked.

"You remember me then?" He said in broken Yautja, taking everyone by surprise. "Oh… yes." He pointed to his axes. "These are such a giveaway, aren't they?"

Kal'deris immediately walked up to Alaric. Alaric didn't flinch as the Yautja Elder towered over him. He just merely held a hand out.

"Greetings." Alaric said politely, hoping to make a good impression.

But the Elder had a different impression to make. He grabbed Alaric by the neck and lifted him off the ground to eye level. Alaric would have brought his axes to bear but Ja'anya gestured to him not to fight. This wasn't hostility that the Elder was showing. Kal'deris was examining him, looking at his face, his physique, and the axes on his belt. The Elder dropped Alaric to his feet before turning to Ja'anya.

"What joke are you trying to play, Ja'anya?" Kal'deris asked, not believing that a human saved Ja'anya from a bad blood.

"I'm not joking, Elder." Ja'anya insisted. "This ooman is the one who saved me."

"Ludicrous and improbable. An ooman wouldn't survive five minutes against a bad blood."

Kra'vyx stepped in to his sister's defense.

"Elder, I know my sister, you know my sister." He said, trying to reason to the elder. "She would never lie about anything like this."

The Huntress spoke up.

"How is it that he didn't try to kill you when you came across him?" She asked Ja'anya. "He tried to kill me when I got near."

Alaric gave his explanation.

"Because I was thoroughly beat up, after wiping out a pack of psuedo-raptors." Alaric answered quickly.

Alaric didn't anticipate a flying fist coming from Kal'deris as he felt his head get smacked to the side with a loud thump.

"Silence ooman!" Kal'deris shouted.

A few snickers were heard as several Yautja chuckled at Alaric's expense. Alaric didn't bother to react to that. He merely straightened his head, cracked his neck, and spat out blood from his mouth. Ja'anya eyes went wide as she was anticipating that Alaric would lose his temper over that. Her brother noticed her reaction with puzzlement. Why did she get agitated when he struck that human? Instead Alaric gave the Elder a stare with his red eyes.

"Elder, with respect for your title, you don't want get me angry." Alaric said, firmly and calmly.

Some of the observing Yautja murmured. Did this ooman just dare to threaten an Elder? Kal'deris certainly thought so as he loomed over Alaric. Now, normally this would be terrifying for a human but Alaric wasn't one to be intimidated.

"You don't have a say in my people's matters, ooman." He said to Alaric with hostility very clear in his voice. "In fact, why should we even consider you?"

Alaric was doing a good job in hiding his emotions, though he could admit that he was slowly nearing his threshold. And the one thing he and Ja'anya really wanted to avoid was for him to go into a rage scenario here. Alaric looked to Ja'anya. Ja'anya understood that he'll have to reveal what was in the sack.

"Okay." Alaric said calmly, masking his annoyance at the elder's treatment of him. "I take it I'll have to bring that bastard out then."

Kal'deris was so completely puzzled by Alaric's speech that he raised a brow. This ooman wasn't scared of him in the slightest, and just what did he mean by 'bringing that bastard out.'? Was Sil'cais on the ship? Alaric held the sack in front of him, holding the bottom of it with one hand and gripping what was inside with the other.

"You want to see my worth?" He said, secretly looking forward to the Yautja's reaction. "Why not ask him?"

He pulled the sack down and immediately all the Yautja present gave of exclamations of shock and surprise. The object in question was none other then Sil'cais' own battered head, mandibles dangling limply and the clearly terrified expression on his face was still there. Some Yautja were so shocked at what they saw that they actually turned away and some parents shielded their children's eyes.

That's right, he thought with mirth. It's different if it's one of your heads going on a wall.

Alaric held the head up by it's dreadlocks for all to see.

"This is the bastard who tried to kill me and rape Ja'anya." Alaric shouted out, making sure everyone heard him. "As you can see, it didn't work out the way he wanted. This is what can, and _will_happen if anyone is stupid enough to annoy me, and to be perfectly honest, I was doing your race a favor."

He then tossed the head at Kal'deris' feet. Kal'deris just stared at the head, at a loss for words. Kra'vyx on the other walked up, picked the head up, and looked at it. His eyes went wide.

"This is Sil'cais!" He said in amazement. "I recognize him from the wanted posters!"

Several Yautja came over and had a look, several even giving off exclamations of confirmation. One of them, an enforcer in shining armor, even flipped his wristpad up and brought up an image of Sil'cais.

"It is him, Elder." the enforcer confirmed. "More beaten up then his picture, but it is certainly him."

"Take a look at the cut." Kra'vyx pointed out. "That is a clean cut, no resistance encountered whatsoever."

Alaric just watched them, not saying a word with his arms crossed. He was content to let them bicker amongst themselves as they tried to get their heads around the truth. He could tell that Ja'anya was amused by her people's reactions. The Elder on the other hand, kept looking at Alaric and then at the head, trying to get his head around this unexpected revelation.

"How in the Black Warrior's skill did he manage to kill him?" Kra'vyx asked, handing the head to the enforcer who was typing into his pad.

Ja'anya thought carefully about what she was going to say. She couldn't just tell them that Sil'cais was one of five Yautja who brutally killed off Alaric's family. Alaric had trouble enough telling her his past. And she had given her word that she would not reveal what it took to beat this bad blood.

"Alaric had a… well let's just say that he had a bone to pick with him." Ja'anya said. "And Sil'cais was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Kal'deris' thoughts were in conflict. How could a human, one that uses only hand weapons, beat a bad blood in hand to hand combat? Bad bloods have no regard for the hunter's code, doing whatever it takes to kill the enemy. He himself had fought humans up close, hand to hand, but they had never put up much of a fight. Even the most conditioned and trained humans wouldn't be able to last long in a fight, even less against a bad blood. How could this human survive?

He then decided to try something drastic.

He walked away from Alaric, who had kept his eyes on the Elder. Ja'anya noticed this and she saw Kal'deris reach for something from his cloak. The Elder had walked a good distance away before turning around and, with a flourish, he pulled out a smart disk from his cloak. Ja'anya's eyes went wide.

"Elder!" She exclaimed.

Alaric saw this and he immediately went for one of his axes on his belt. The people around them started to clamor and clear a space for their Elder while a few hunters gave off some yells of encouragement.

'_I knew it!'_ Alaric thought angrily.

He raised his axe, ready to attack. However, he saw the pleading look in Ja'anya's eyes. She was trying desperately to stop the Elder before things get out of hand. Alaric slowly lowered his axe into a non-threatening stance.

"Elder, please!" She begged.

"If this ooman is as strong as you think he is," Kal'deris said aloud to Ja'anya. "then he should be able to dodge this."

With that, Kal'deris primed his disk and, with a roar, hurled it at Alaric despite Ja'anya's pleadings. The disk soared through the air, giving off a high pitched whine as it locked onto Alaric. Against all the Yautjas' expectations, Alaric was not reacting to this in the slightest. He didn't even move from his spot. Kal'deris couldn't help but feel a little concerned about this.

Alaric dodged the disk by an inch, ducking his head as it buzzed over him. Alaric braced his axe and he watched the disk fly around. Ja'anya saw Alaric's determined look as he waited for the disk to return to try and kill him again. The disk came at him again and Alaric smacked it into the deck with his axe in a shower of sparks. It embedded itself into the deck to everyone's amazement.

He casually gave his axe a flourish, secretly relishing the surprised expressions on all their faces.

"What did I do to get that thrown at me!" He shouted to the Elder, demanding an answer.

Ja'anya was relived that he stopped this before it got out of hand. However, Elder Kal'deris cocked his head to his right and pulled out another one. He primed it and before Ja'anya could say anything he threw it with a load roar.

'_Oh, for crying out loud!'_ Alaric thought with annoyance.

He brought his axe up, blade facing the disk and he braced himself. Now, at this point what would happen is that the disk will slice through Alaric's axe and into him. What actually happened was enough to make every Yautja drop their jaws in shock and utter surprise. Even Kal'deris couldn't stop his jaw dropping.

The disk went flying for Alaric's head again. He parried with his axe, bringing it hard into the disk, and in a shower of bright sparks and screeching metal, the disk was sliced clean in half. Each half went spiraling in opposite directions past his head, causing bystanders to duck and dodge as the glowing halves went zigzagging through the air. The halves went impaling themselves into the deck or in the hulls of other ships.

Murmurs erupted as everyone saw something that they just couldn't understand. A human made weapon had cleanly sliced through a Yautja smart disk. Ja'anya watched Alaric as he starting patting his hair furiously. Evidently by the faint smoke, a spark or two had landed in his hair.

"Ah, sod it!" He said in English, shaking his hair. "My hair's on fire!"

Alaric stopped messing with his hair, which had now come undone and was trailing down him in spikes, and looked at all the shocked Yautja. Ja'anya could see in Alaric's eyes that he wasn't happy about these turn of events. He was showing a great degree of self control in containing himself but that was liable to change if these attacks kept getting thrown at him.

Alaric hadn't done anything to deserve this.

To him, that was an unprovoked attack. Alaric was now in a foul mood. He had come here, in peace, and how does he get treated even though he saved Ja'anya? Why, he gets some razor sharp disks thrown at him, aiming for his head. He would've gone for the Elder's throat the moment he had regained his focus. But, he'd made a promise to Ja'anya and he wasn't going to break it for this.

"I'm going back into the ship before I do something I'll regret." Alaric muttered to himself as he paced back up the ramp before shouting back at the masses. "If your Elder manages to piss me off, you'll have a lot more than severed heads to deal with!"

He disappeared from sight, cursing under his breath, and everyone started to murmur at his reaction. Ja'anya was relieved that he didn't lose his temper but she was just as upset as he was by these events. The first thing she did was to march up to a stunned Kal'deris.

"Elder, why did you do that!" She demanded of him.

Kal'deris snapped out of his stupor and faced Ja'anya.

"I couldn't take your word until I saw him for myself, you know that." Kal'deris said to the small huntress. "But I had never expected this from an ooman."

Ja'anya sighed. Kal'deris had been testing whether Alaric actually had the skill to beat a bad blood, not trying to kill him.

"I have to admit, I did not expect that ooman to stand his ground." He said "He has courage… lots of it!"

Kra'vyx came walking up, holding the two glowing disk halves in his hands with an ecstatic look on his face.

"That was awesome!" He said. "Did you see how he sliced cleanly through this disk?"

Kra'vyx's enthusiasm never ceased to amaze his sister. He would always get excited whenever anyone had a new weapon to show. And Alaric's axes had completely blown his mind.

Ja'anya came up the ramp looking for Alaric. She had to explain that the reason for Kal'deris' actions was not out of hostility but more for observation. She first tried her sparring room but, strangely, he wasn't there. She then tried her bedroom and then the kitchen and he wasn't there. She then tried the bathroom and she noticed that the drier room's door was ajar. She also heard scraping, the sound of scraping metal on bone, from inside.

She nudged the door open and she saw Alaric sitting on the bench, carving something with his axe. The object in question was the leg bone of that ankylosaur and he was carving it with such concentration that he didn't notice the door opening. He was carving the bone using only the spike on the back of the axe head and the amount of detail that he was carving into the bone was simply astonishing, judging by the amount of bone peelings by his feet. What he was carving looked like a figurine or statuette of some kind depicting an ancient human warrior, a Greek hoplite.

Alaric gave the carving a blow to get some flakes off and he examined it, making sure he had gotten all the rough edges out. While he didn't notice Ja'anya opening the door he noticed her shadow suddenly appearing.

"I take it you finally sorted things out?" He questioned almost casually.

"Yes, the problem has been sorted." Ja'anya said, sitting down next to him.

Alaric holstered his axe and popped his carving into a harness pouch.

"Alaric, Kal'deris wasn't trying to kill you. He was just testing you." Ja'anya told him

"Well, he has a somewhat strange way of showing it." Alaric pointed out. "I'd hate to see what he throws at me for the finals."

Ja'anya shuffled closer to him.

"Kal'deris always believed in setting examples and you had set yours." Ja'anya said. "Unless he witnesses events first hand, he remains skeptical."

Alaric chuckled.

"I know how that feels." He said. "My superiors were often like that when they received reports of me." A thought came to his head. "You did tell him about those skulls, right?" Alaric asked. "I don't feel like being called a mass murderer after what happened just then."

Ja'anya nodded.

"Kal'deris knows everything." She assured him. "Enforcers will be collecting them when we leave."

Footsteps could be heard coming closer and a familiar voice calling out for Ja'anya. It was Kra'vyx.

"Sister, where are you?" He called out.

Ja'anya stood up and went out of the dry room. Alaric cautiously got up and followed her, keeping a hand on one axe. They found Ja'anya's brother in her sparring ring looking at all the skulls in the room. All of Ja'anya's trophies and the remains of Sil'cais' victims. He was so focused looking at them that he didn't hear them come in.

Ja'anya winked at Alaric and sneaked over to her brother. She then quickly swept her brother's legs from under him and he went falling onto his back with a loud thud. She then sat on top of him.

"Nice one, sister." Kra'vyx said, picking himself up. "You never get tired of me hitting the ground do you?"

Ja'anya got off of him giggling as Alaric walked up.

"Alaric." She said to him, gesturing to her brother. "This is Kra'vyx, my younger but bigger brother."

Alaric held his hand out but Kra'vyx had other ideas. He lunged forward and grabbed Alaric in a bear hug.

"This is for saving my sister." Kra'vyx said.

Alaric was lost at this as this was one thing he had _not _expected to get. But he was quick to warm up, giving Kra'vyx a few pats on the back. Kra'vyx let Alaric go.

"Well, that's a first." Alaric said.

Kra'vyx turned to his sister.

"Ja'anya, mother sent me to get you so she can meet your savior." Kra'vyx told her.

Ja'anya raised her brows.

"She's been informed already?" She asked.

"Kal'deris notified her personally."

Ja'anya turned to Alaric.

"Alaric, I suppose it's time to meet my mother." she said.

Alaric crossed his arms.

"I'm not gonna get more disks thrown at me just for saying hello?" He asked skeptically.

"Kal'deris has given orders not to try anything against you while you're with me." She explained.

Alaric shrugged and gestured to the door.

"Let's get going then." He said nonchalantly. "Don't want to keep your mother waiting."

Ja'anya walked out followed by her brother. Alaric followed Ja'anya and Kra'vyx and she led him back out to the hanger. The enforcers waiting outside moved into the ship to retrieve the skulls.

"So, what happened with Sil'cais?" Kra'vyx asked.


	8. Chapter 8

hey all!

you know the drill, if you like the story, drop a comment or constructive crititsm.

in this chapter Alaric, Ja'anya and Kra'vyx reach the training acadamy and there, Alaric shows everyone whats he's capable of, much to Ja'anya's mother's delight.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8- a lesson on pride and a mother's love.<p>

Alaric, Ja'anya, and Kra'vyx walked down the streets from the hanger bays, attracting attention as onlookers caught sight of Alaric. Alaric kept focused on following Ja'anya and her brother, ignoring the mutterings that he could hear. Some of what he heard, he could understand from his limited knowledge, turned out to be a mixture of both mild praise for his fight against the bad-blood and some plain old disdain for him being a human. Ja'anya was quietly talking to her brother about her hunt, how she had come across Alaric, and how Alaric had completely decimated Sil'cais.

Kra'vyx on the other hand was not so quiet.

"He actually picked him up and snapped his back with his shoulders?" Kra'vyx asked in disbelief.

"Yes, you should have heard the sound he made." Ja'anya said, turning her head to Alaric who was scratching his head before tying up his hair.

"He sounded like a blaring alarm klaxon." Alaric described. "And that was after I pounded him into semi-consciousness."

He opened a pouch on his harness and pulled out a cloth bundle. He opened it, revealing the contents to be pieces of smoked ankylosuar. He held it out, offering to both Ja'anya and her brother. They both took a piece and started munching on it before he took a piece himself, holding it in his teeth while he put the rest away.

"Not bad, this stuff." Kra'vyx said before shoving the rest of it in his mouth.

"Shouldn't be if I had to spend a year eating it." Alaric commented ruefully.

They were passing the market square and Alaric saw many things that he never thought he would see. There were many metalwork objects ranging from elaborate jewelry to very sophisticated weapons such as staves, disks, and armor. There were also many different textiles such as clothing and decorative tapestries depicting great hunts of the past.

Alaric found himself pulling out the bone carving he had done back on Ja'anya's ship. He was visually comparing to the things he was seeing, his sculpture was crude in comparison. Kra'vyx caught sight of it in his hand while he was examining the differences.

"You carved that?" He asked with interest.

Alaric handed it to him, and immediately noticed that Kra'vyx looked at it with inquisitiveness, amazed by the level of detail that Alaric had put into it. Kra'vyx held the sculpture out to Alaric but Alaric shook his head.

"Keep it, I can make more." He said offhandedly.

Kra'vyx took his hand back.

"What is it supposed to be?" He asked, looking at it again.

"It's an ancient Greek Hoplite." Alaric said.

'A what?"

"Hoplite. Heavy infantry that would group into tight formations called phalanxes and then move as one to continuously batter at enemy formations until one side crumbled like a house of cards."

Kra'vyx listened intensely and Ja'anya smiled at his enthusiasm. Kra'vyx in particular listened about the Spartans, no doubt one of the deadliest factions of warriors in human history. He told him about the battle of Thermopylae, in which only three hundred Spartans defended a narrow mountain pass against tens of thousands of Persian troops. Kra'vyx would never have thought that humans could be capable of such acts of bravery.

"You think they're tough, you should see some of their myths and legends." Alaric said. "In one of their legends, one hero, Theseus, kills a minotaur, which is a man/bull monster, with his bare hands."

"That's like wrestling a praetorian khainde amedha!" Kra'vyx compared in surprise.

Ja'anya smiled as Alaric and her brother started to bond.

They soon arrived where Kra'vyx lived, in the district were Unblooded hunters trained and lived. There was a courtyard where many Yautja were busy training. Alaric could see that the male and females were in separate areas, training with their combi-sticks in sparring rings, or throwing a variety of projectiles at numerous moving targets.

They followed Kra'vyx in.

"Well, this is where I'm staying for my hunter's training." Kra'vyx said to Alaric.

Alaric watched as the Yautja teens trained. It reminded of a life he knew so well.

_Alaric picked up a special ops variant pulse rifle, a bull pup configuration of the original design. He checked the magazine before ramming it home, cocking it, and taking aim. A loud speaker gave off a sound of commencement and all hell broke loose. Sounds of gunfire, xenomorph shrieks and explosions filled the air as Alaric ran through the winding corridors._

_Alaric gunned down the last figure in a concentrated volley of projectiles, watching it slump into the ground. The lights to the facility lit up revealing great streaks of paint on the walls, floor, ceiling and on the groaning soldiers that heaved themselves from the floor. Alaric merely brushed the paint off his uniform and checked his visor's HUD for his assessment score:_

_REAPER, ARCHANGEL SQUAD, SPEC OPS DIVISION._

_HIT ACCUARACY: 82%._

_CONFIRMED ENEMY KILLS: 50._

_HITS TAKEN: 150._

_OVERALL RATING: B+._

_RECOMMENDATION: LEARN TO DUCK ONCE IN A WHILE._

Memories, he thought with fond relish, and a slight grin.

Kra'vyx and his sister moved further in, being greeted by fellow Yautja with Alaric trailing behind. He was being subjected to quite a few looks and stares as these teen Yautja caught sight of the first human they had ever seen. Even their trainers had stopped instructing to take a look at the newcomer.

A few Unbloods came walking up to Alaric, two males and a female. The three Yautja were comprised of a mottled grey stocky male, a spotted sand colored male and a slim athletic female. Kra'vyx talked to them and then gestured to Alaric. No doubt these were Kra'vyx's friends. He talked to them, showing them Alaric. The two males laughed at what he was suggesting, despite his strong insistence.

"Friends of his?" Alaric asked.

Ja'anya nodded as she walked over to greet her brother's friends.

Alaric saw something not far from them, something that resembled an elevated obstacle course and saw that several Unbloods were taking it in turns to complete it. Their trainer was standing at the side holding what Alaric thought was a stopwatch of some kind. He watched how the current contestant was struggling to make it up a mock-up cliff at the beginning and was getting berated by his fellow trainees.

Alaric had an idea that and he grinned slightly.

"Ja'anya." He called out.

Ja'anya turned her head and walked over as Kra'vyx kept talking to the others about Ja'anya's hunt.

"Yes, Alaric?" She asked curiously.

Alaric then started removing his harness and axes.

"You remember how I promised to show you some moves." He said, pulling his hand axes off his belt and placing them on the ground. "I intend to honor that promise now."

He unclipped his harness with his great axe still in place. He placed them on the ground with his other axes. He flexed his arms for a second, his tags jingling on his chest as he warmed up.

Ja'anya and Kra'vyx's female friend couldn't help looking at his heavily muscled physique.

"Watch." He said.

And before anyone could stop him, he dashed for the course. He zoomed past the waiting Yautja, startling them as the long haired human whizzed past them. The trainer started cursing in Yautja. That was until he saw Alaric's performance.

Alaric ran up to the cliff and jumped onto it, actually running up it for a few paces before deftly and swiftly climbing up it, finding footholds in rapid succession and jumping to the next level. He reached the top in less than ten seconds, much to the Yautja climber's amazement who barely managed to reach the top, before jumping off.

He rolled, kicking up dust when he hit the ground, absorbing the fifty foot drop into his conditioned body before sprinting to a series of raised bars, tube tunnels, and swinging sacks. Alaric, suffice to say, was like water moving over a rock. He twisted, turned, rolled, dived, and hopped past every obstacle. He was, like the style depicts, following the path of least resistance.

Ja'anya, and pretty much everyone else for that matter, were watching with raised brows and slack jaws as they saw Alaric breeze through something that would have bruised even the most determined trainee. Kra'vyx and a few others on the other hand started whooping and cheering him on. She would be blatantly lying to herself if she even tried to claim that she wasn't enjoying watching him do this.

_'Oh my!'_She thought as Alaric did a forward flip over a mud ditch. _'I never thought... he's so... snap out of it Ja'anya!'_

Alaric did a jumping grab at a rope in front of him and swiftly pulled himself up using only his arms before swinging off onto the platform. He glimpsed the elevated scene very briefly, no doubt made to imitate a tree canopy, before he began traversing the overhanging bars and narrow walkways, dodging more sacks swinging at him. He reached the end of the line and, seeing the end of the course, grabbed onto the zip line, and went soaring down. The moving hook went into the pad with a loud clang and Alaric went into a fluid roll before recovering and skidding over the finish line.

He walked back up to Ja'anya, taking a few breaths. He was perspiring slightly, making his body have a light sheen that reflected the light. His hair had come undone again and formed his mane of spikes as usual.

Ja'anya had started to pant lightly as she watched the performance unfold.

"Judging by your panting, I guess you enjoyed the demonstration." Alaric called out amiably as he walked up to her. "God, I think I rolled onto a stone on that first drop."

Ja'anya stopped panting rather quickly because of embarrassment.

Alaric noticed that several other females were panting slightly as well. The males on the other hand were just talking to themselves, going over what they had just witnessed. Kra'vyx meanwhile walked up with a linen towel. He had an ecstatic look on his face, his mandibles flaring out.

"That was completely awesome!" He said, handing Alaric the towel. "How did you ever get that fast for an ooman?"

Alaric wiped his face, muffling a few chuckles.

"When you have been through many obstacles, be it training or in combat, you learn to maximize what space and time you have." Alaric said, wiping his body. "You have to; otherwise you'll be pushing up daisies."

Kra'vyx turned to his friends.

"See, Alaric is just...what is the ooman word, 'bad-ass'?" Kra'vyx said.

"Okay, he's quick on his feet." The sand colored Yautja admitted. "But I still don't think he could take on a bad blood."

The trainer only now had managed to get his gaze from Alaric to his timer and his jaw dropped again as saw the time.

"I'll be damned!" He gasped, holding the timer closer to his eyes in disbelief. "This is a new record." He looked back up at them. "That ooman completed the course in exactly 30 seconds!"

Alaric didn't pay any mind to that. He just slipped his harness back on and popped his axes back in their loops. It was then that he noticed a shadowfall over him. He also heard something which sounded like an annoyed growl. Alaric turned around and he saw something of an irate black spotted Unblood looking down at him.

No doubt that this is the previous record holder.

This Unblood is what you would count as the class bully crossed with the star football player. And if there was one thing that it hated more then being beaten and that was being beaten by something he considers inferior.

'_And this,'_thought Alaric, _'stupid child, is one of those.'_

"You got a lot of nerve being here, ooman." He said, spite lacing his tone. "Considering how weak and worthless your species is."

Alaric stood his ground and merely crossed his arms. He was keeping calm about this. He just gave the Unblood a 'not scared of you in the slightest' look. Kra'vyx decided to try and avert a nasty situation, having been told about Alaric's formidable skills in detail.

Very graphic detail as told by Ja'anya

"Syl'vex, just leave it, okay." He tried to reason.

The disgraced Yautja had other plans. He just shoved Kra'vyx hard out of the way, to Ja'anya's distress as his head impacted the ground with a thud, and raised a fist. But needless to say, this bully was way out of his depth.

Alaric nimbly dodged the blow, letting the Yautja blunder past him before giving him a headbutt with a loud crack as their heads connected. The bully landed hard into the ground, clutching his face which now had green blood seeping through his fingers. Alaric cradled his head as a minor headache took effect and he stood there while the other Yautja watched. Some of this bully's previous victims started snickering.

"You alright, Kra'vyx?" Alaric asked in concern as he walked over.

Kra'vyx was helped up by Ja'anya and he was rubbing his forehead. He didn't seem bothered by this even though a bruise was starting to form.

"I'm alright, my skull broke my fall." Kra'vyx said, provoking a chuckle from his sister and his friends.

Syl'vyx had now recovered from his blunder and was now even more enraged at being beaten twice by a human.

"You're dead, ooman!" Syl'vyx cursed, heaving himself up with his fists raised.

Alaric just shrugged and turned his back.

"I'm won't fight you until you have passed your training." He said. "I think the state of your face is evidence enough of your inexperience."

This wasn't meant as an insult. Instead, it was simple fact, as Alaric would rather have a fair fight on equal terms. And from what he had seen, this bully had a long way to go before he could lay a finger on him.

Kra'vyx then put himself in the line again, stepping in front of Alaric.

"Syl'vyx, just leave it." Kra'vyx urged firmly.

The bully just spat some blood out.

"Defending an ooman." Syl'vyx spat, bringing out a combi-stick and priming it. "You're even weaker then I thought, Kra'vyx.".

Kra'vex's eyes narrowed into angry slits. He now saw that there was nothing he could do to avert this situation. Better let nature take it's course.

"I may be weaker, than you are, but I'm not as stupid." Kra'vex countered.

Ja'anya couldn't help but stifle a laugh and that annoyed the bully even more.

Alaric sighed as he drew forth his axes. Evidently, this bully needed a more direct lesson. Ja'anya would have urged him not to kill this Unblooded teen until Alaric gave her a wink. She then knew that Alaric was just going to give him a _not_ so little lesson in humility. Kra'vyx shrugged his arms and shuffled out of the way.

"Your funeral." Kra'vyx muttered.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Alaric said firmly as he started twirling his axes.

Syl'vyx charged at him, bringing his staff down. A loud clang of metal on metal filled the air as Alaric parried with his axes. After a very brief struggle occurred as the bully tried to break the dead lock and Alaric stood resolute and unflinching. A shattering of metal erupted as the staff was rent in two in a shower of sparks and before the startled Yautja had a chance to react, Alaric delivered a lightning-fast roundhouse kick to the face. Hardened armor plated boot met sensitive flesh and bone in a loud crunching crack and Syl'vyx went crashing face first, trailing green blood through the air, into the ground with his body piling into a heap.

Every Yautja present could only watch as Alaric casually holstered his axes, readjusted his boot, and knelt down beside the defeated Unblood. He wasn't pleased about this but felt like this particular Yautja had just learned an overdue lesson about pride.

The hard and, always painful, way.

Kra'vyx shook his head, muttering things like 'told you so' and 'shouldn't have done that'.

Ja'anya was both not pleased with the string of events and somewhat entertained by this bully's comeuppance.

"I stand corrected." Kra'vyx's friend said, with a gaping mouth.

Alaric looked at the huddled Yautja.

"Novice." Alaric said, like a teacher to a student. "You may think you're tougher then anyone else in your class. But you have a long way to go before you can take on a slayer."

He saw the Yautja trying to pick himself up, grunting in pain with blood seeping from his face. Alaric grabbed him by the arm and helped him up. Upon seeing Syl'vyx's battered face, he saw that several teeth from his inner mouth were missing. Alaric bent back down and picked them up.

"Here's your teeth." Alaric said popping them back into the Yautja's face, making him squirm. "But if you come at me like that again, I'll be wearing those teeth next to my tags."

The light sound of clapping was heard as everyone turned to the source. It was a dark striped huntress in ornate robes, elaborate but practical jewelry and had a regal grace to her build. She walked over to them and saw Alaric with Syl'vyx on his shoulder who was busy trying to keep his head straight and teeth in despite losing consciousness steadily. All the other Unbloods moved apart to let her advance.

Alaric could see that this huntress had violet eyes and stripes, like Ja'anya's, and he could only think of one person as he looked at her.

"Mother." Ja'anya and Kra'vyx said, both in greeting and respect.

"Mistress Zel'tyr." The trainer greeted, a fist on his chest.

Ja'anya's mother walked past them and up to Alaric. She saw the near unconscious Syl'vyx on his shoulder. She looked down at Alaric's feet, seeing his axes on his belt and seeing the spattering of green blood on one boot.

She knew exactly what happened.

'_Seems Syl'vyx chose the wrong target to intimidate.'_ She thought mildly impressed.

She bent down to Syl'vyx's level, close enough to see how much damage he had taken. The left side of his face was swollen and bleeding. She could see several teeth were loose and his head was slightly misshapen from a skull fracture.

Compared to what Alaric could have done, this was comparatively light.

"Syl'vyx, what did I say about choosing your fights more carefully?" She said, authoritatively.

The Unblood could only respond with a painful grunt. Zel'tyr simply sighed and gestured the trainer to take him to the infirmary. Alaric handed him over, giving a pat on the back and watched as he was half carried, half dragged away. Alaric looked up at the veteran huntress who was now dismissing the other students who went off talking about what they had seen.

"So, you're the human everyone is talking about." She questioned.

Alaric nodded.

"And you are Ja'anya's mother." He said back.

"You must be quite the warrior to protect my daughter as you have." She said, looking at his axes. "With deceptively effective weapons."

Ja'anya and her brother walked up next to Alaric.

"Mother, this is Alaric." Ja'anya introduced Zel'tyr to Alaric. "Alaric, this is my mother."

Alaric nodded to her in recognition.

"Ma'am." He said, holding out a hand.

Zel'tyr held a hand up and Alaric lowered his.

"I understand that you are the one who killed that bad-blood and saved my daughter from a terrible fate." Zel'tyr said, walking around Alaric and examining him. "Though I have to admit that I was surprised when Kal' told me it was an ooman who had done so."

She took hold of his hair and watched how it formed into spikes around her fingers. She also ran her hands down his arm, feeling the muscles under his skin and bandages.

"You have a very well developed fighting body." She pointed out "You must have been training for some time."

Alaric nodded.

"Well, Ja'anya saved my life before so I returned the favor." He said. "Plus, I had a vendetta with that bastard."

"You must tell me about that, perhaps over dinner tonight." Zel'tyr said, before turning to her daughter. "Ja'anya, I would love to hear about your hunt tonight at dinner." She added making it clear that both she and her human friend were to be there.

"I will, mother." Ja'anya promised.

Zel'tyr then turned to those spectators who were still circled around.

"Get back to your training, young ones!" She commanded and the Unbloods promptly went about their business, half walking and half running.

She turned to Kra'vyx.

"Son, I'll let you have today off to help show Alaric around," She told him, "but I expect you to train hard tomorrow."

"Yes, mother." Kra'vyx said.

Zel'tyr bid her children and Alaric farewell and walked off to resume teaching the Unbloods the ways of the hunt.

"Don't let mother's friendly exterior fool you." Kra'vyx said, "She could kick anyone's ass anytime, trust me."

Alaric chuckled.

"Like me" He said easily which made both Kra'vyx and Ja'anya laugh.

"Come along, I'll show you were I live." Ja'anya said, taking Alaric's arm in hers.

Kra'vyx smirked at his sister.

"You go on, I'll meet you later." He said, walking off to his quarters. "I'll bring some things over."

Alaric wasn't complaining about Ja'anya leading him away. He wanted to get out of this area before any other trainees decided to try to fight him. They walked out of the training grounds and continued down the street.

They stopped outside the door to Ja'anya's home and Ja'anya entered the door's code combination. Alaric propped himself against the wall as he waited. He kept getting looks from passing Yautja though they were increasing more friendly then threatening.

Obviously word had gotten out how he put down the last one stupid enough to fight him.

He felt a tugging at his belt on his left. He looked down and he saw a couple of Yautja children, a girl and a boy, both with mottled ochre skin and large green eyes poking at his axe and looking at it with inquisitiveness. Not wanting unnecessary problems involving juveniles, Alaric lowered a hand and pulled his axe out of reach.

"You don't want to cut yourself on the edge of this thing." He warned them as they watched him kneel down. "Watch this and you'll know why."

He pulled something behind his back, a metal rod he'd found laying on the ground earlier and held it in one hand. He held it horizontally. He held his axe in line with the rod and gave it a few light taps, telling the children to step back. When they shuffled back a few steps. He brought the axe down hard on the rod. The rod was sliced cleanly in two in a shower of sparks, the falling half went clanging to the ground.

One of the kids picked up the half and looked at the glowing end with wide eyes while Alaric holstered his axe. The two kids starting talking in amazement.

Ja'anya looked at him and the children as she chuckled.

"Looks like you've got some new friends." She said, walking closer.

The children saw her and their eyes went wide and smiles appeared on their faces.

"Ja'anya!" The children said, "We are so happy you're okay."

Ja'anya knelt down to their level with a smile on her face.

"Don't worry, I'm alright." She said, turning to Alaric. "Thanks to Alaric here. He beat up the bad blood really good."

Before Alaric could say anything, both children grabbed him in a tight bear hug. For their size, they were much stronger then human children their age, which he thought must be around seven to eight in human terms. Alaric could feel himself being constricted and the prickling of sharp little talons on his back. But he just gave each of them a pat on the back like he did with Kra'vyx.

"Uh...no problem." He said. "You mind letting go, my brain's not getting any blood."

The two kids let go. The boy started sniffing at one of Alaric's pouches, the one with the ankylosaur meat in it. Alaric opened the pouch and took the bundle out. He handed it to them.

"Here you go." He said. "You'll like this."

"Don't you two think you should be running home now?" Ja'anya asked as Alaric stood back up and rubbed his back.

"Yes, Ja'anya." They both said, giving her a hug before looking up at Alaric with wide smiles on their faces. "Bye, Alaric!"

The two kids then ran off. Alaric found that he was chuckling lightly to himself.

"The innocence of youth." Alaric said fondly while crossing his arms.

Ja'anya smiled and opened the door. She stepped through and Alaric followed her.

Ja'anya's home was a welcome place to be on Lai'Kairis. At least he would be safe from the leers and glares of distrustful Yautja.

It reminded him of something he had read when he was a child, a history book of ancient Greeks. Ja'anya's home reminded of a Greek home. The kitchen and living area were formed as one with a fireplace in the living area. A bedroom and bathroom were at the far end of the room. It was like a much larger version of her ship's living areas.

Alaric took his boots off and unclipped his harness. Ja'anya did the same with her armor. She walked into her bedroom to slip into something more civil. Alaric hung his harness on a hook and walked in. He saw some cushions by the fireplace and he sat down in front of them. He then had a thought. If they were going to be attending dinner with Ja'anya's family then he should get ready for it. He knew he needed to make a good impression so he wouldn't get more disks thrown at him. He walked up to Ja'anya's shut door to her room and knocked.

"Ja'anya, do you mind if I use your shower, if you have one?" He asked.

He only waited for a second before he got a reply.

"Yes, Alaric." Ja'anya answered.

"Thanks."

Alaric walked into the bathroom and looked around briefly. This bathroom was similar to the one on her ship. The only addition was a covered shower unit that was located near the bath in the far right corner.

Perfect, he thought.

Alaric walked up to it and had a look at the inside. He was pleased that he saw that this was operated just like a human version.

At last, he thought unwrapping the bandages on his chest and arm, something I can use without getting burnt.

He stripped off quickly, putting his fatigues and spec ops boxers neatly to one side and then stepped inside. He slid the door shut behind him. He turned the dials and a steady stream of water came rushing down to meet him. He adjusted the temperature. He shut his eyes as he felt the temperature get just right.

He always found showers to be very peaceful, just like a waterfall. There were many a time on Floria VII when he would just go to a waterfall and just meditate under its barrage of water. It was one of the few things that he feels truly safe and serene. Steam rose around him, filling up the compartment.

Now this is comforting, he thought to himself shutting his eyes.

_Alaric and his wife sat in their bathtub, embracing each other. Alaric lay back with his wife in front of him, laying back. It had been three months since their honeymoon and Alaric had everything he had fought and struggled so hard for._

_A home and a loving wife._

_His wife then slowly grasped his hand and lowered it to her abdomen, whispering to Alaric. Alaric smiled and held her close when he learned he was going to be a father._

Now, it was at this point that he was going to get a surprise. He was so relaxed that he didn't notice the door sliding open. It then shut and he felt taloned hands on his chest. He opened his eyes suddenly and when his focus came back into view, he saw he had a shower-mate with him.

Ja'anya was standing in front of him, just as naked as he was, and looking at him. She had a smile on her face. Her eyes seemed to glow brightly in the shower mist. It was slightly captivating.

"You look relaxed." She pointed out, drawing her hands around his pectorals.

Alaric, for a second, was at a loss for words. He found himself just watching Ja'anya as the water poured around them. He had seen Ja'anya naked previously whenever she washed herself but never this up close because he preferred to give her privacy.

"And... you look very curious." Alaric countered. "Figured you needed a shower too?"

Ja'anya only rested her head on his shoulder. Alaric felt very awkward at this point so he decided to just take the lead and get this over with. He grabbed the soap from a small alcove and started lathering up her back. Ja'anya started to purr seductively and started running her hands up his back, imitating his actions.

'_Oh god!'_He thought quickly. _'Calm down, Alaric. Just concentrate on the task and don't get carried away.'_

He continued washing her back as she sensuously caressed his, holding tightly to him. Alaric wasn't entirely comfortable with this, but to his own surprise, he was actually starting to warm up to it. This wasn't really any different from the showers back in the corps. Only they didn't get this close.

"Come on, let's do your front." Alaric instructed suddenly.

Ja'anya readily turned her back to Alaric, obviously wanting him to reach around her to do so. Alaric sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. Ja'anya continued purring and even shut her eyes to better enjoy the sensations she was feeling. Alaric just focused on washing her and not on what might happen if he lost his tight level of control. Ja'anya could feel that he was deliberately keeping away from her breasts and her nether regions. In the back of her mind, she didn't really care. She just wanted to be really close to him, and was reveling in the feeling of having him so close to her.

'_I don't ever want this to end.'_ Ja'anya thought dreamily.

Her daydreaming came to an abrupt end when she heard a beep from outside. She opened her eyes and saw that Alaric had noticed it as well. Another beep followed. Ja'anya gave an annoyed growl and she slid the shower door open and stepped out. She walked over to a panel on the wall and pushed a button. Alaric was secretly relieved that he was now alone in the shower.

"Yes?" She asked, slightly annoyed.

"Sister." Came Kra'vyx's voice. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Ja'anya looked back at Alaric as he was scrubbing his hair. He couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Not really. Would you mind waiting inside for a few minutes?"

"Okay, try not to make too much noise."

Ja'anya almost choked in surprise when her brother said that. Where did Kra'vyx get that assumption?

She switched the intercom off and stepped back into the shower. She took hold of Alaric's hands, getting his attention as they went back into position with her back to him and lowered his hands to her abdomen.

"Now, where were we?" She asked with a highly suggestive tone.

Alaric sighed as he went back to work as Ja'anya shut her eyes again.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9- Dinner and a ballad

Kra'vyx waited in the living area, sitting on the cushions with a sack next to him. He knew that they were both in the bathroom, but he didn't know if they were getting to 'know' one another better. He frankly didn't care if they did or did not, though he would have loved to see Ja'anya's reaction to his comment.

The bathroom door slid open and he smirked as he saw Ja'anya and Alaric step out. Alaric had a towel wrapped around his waist and Ja'anya had hers around her chest. She gave Kra'vyx an interrupted look.

"Didn't interrupt anything did I?" He asked before Ja'anya shut her bedroom door. "I think I did."

Alaric leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His hair draped over his in damp spikes. It looked like he was trying not to reveal what had happened in the shower.

"So, what have you got in the sack?" Alaric asked, gesturing to it.

Kra'vyx picked the sack up and opened it.

"Just some clothing of mine that you can borrow." Kra'vyx said.

Alaric walked over and had a look at what Kra'vyx was pulling out. There were a variety of tunics and footwear in the sack.

"Well, at least we have the roughly same build." Alaric said casually.

He walked back into the bathroom to dry himself off and get his clothes back on. Kra'vyx meanwhile saw Alaric's harness and axes. He reached over and picked up one of the hand axes. He was very careful with it, having been told that touching the edge would be unwise. He admired their ornate make, especially the runes emblazoned on each axe.

'_I'm curious how an ooman managed to make a weapon like this.'_He thought.

The bedroom door slid open and Ja'anya stepped through just as Alaric came out of the bathroom, drying his hair. Kra'vyx saw how Alaric just stood there looking at his sister.

Ja'anya had dressed in a casual short sleeved gown and skirt. She had various items of jewelry on, ranging from shining ocean blue stones in a silver chain around her neck to and the ornate circlet on her head. Placed in the center of it was a small reflecting diamond, cut into the shape of a crescent moon pointing up

Her father's birth sign.

Luar-ke.

Alaric found himself lost for words as he looked at Ja'anya in the clothing she had chosen. Kra'vyx started getting quite a few thoughts in his head.

"You... umm... look beautiful." He managed to say. "Excuse me."

He moved past her and into her room. Kra'vyx got up and followed him inside with the sack of clothes, making suggestions on what would suit him. Ja'anya watched the door slide shut before she smiled at Alaric's words.

"He called me beautiful." She whispered to herself with a smile as she walked over to the cushions and sat down. "Calm down, Ja'anya."

Ja'anya waited outside her bedroom while Kra'vyx and Alaric were getting ready. She could hear them talk about what Alaric should wear to make a good impression. She hoped that maybe her mother and Kal'deris would approve of him joining the clan. She didn't tell Alaric that it would be the best possible chance for him to find those bad-bloods. She planned to tell him the moment she received any notification.

"Kra'vyx, I just want something simple and practical." Alaric could be heard saying. "And no, I'm not wearing a loincloth."

"Oh, come on." Kra'vyx pleaded. "You might even like it."

Ja'anya chuckled at that. She thought of Alaric wearing one with a grimace on his face.

"I heard that." Alaric called out in annoyance.

The door slid open and Kra'vyx stepped through, now wearing a long tunic and sandals. He also had gold metal bands around his arms. Alaric came stepping through after him.

Alaric was dressed rather simply. He still had his marine fatigues on but he was also wearing long plain sleeveless tabard-like tunic over it, covering his chest instead of bandages. However, he had bandages wrapped around his hands and forearms in the manner that fist fighters would. He also had what would pass for knee-high boots to a Yautja wearer, a combination of leather sandals and mesh that was similar to what ancient humans would have worn, fastened by leather tassels on the calf sections. His tags and locket glinted in the light.

'_Oh my!'_ Ja'anya thought as she looked at Alaric. _'Yautja clothing really does suit him.'_

"Well, do I look like a Yautja?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Ja'anya got up and walked up to him. She looked at his body, running a hand down his chest. Alaric meanwhile watched Ja'anya doing this, seeing her in such regal and elegant clothing was something else. He could feel something stir again inside his mind.

Ja'anya could feel something stir inside her too.

"Yes." Ja'anya answered. "Handsome.".

Alaric would have blushed if he had let himself. Instead, Alaric tied his hair back before gesturing to the door.

"Shall we proceed?" He asked.

"About time, I'm starving." Kra'vyx said, moving for the door.

The three friends moved out of Ja'anya's home, sealing the doors behind them.

* * *

><p>The communal eating hall was a social place to be. Hunters of all ages liked to hang around there to boast about their hunts and for friends to catch up on everyday things. In many ways, this was no different to any human variant, be it tavern or banquet hall.<p>

Alaric, Ja'anya, and Kra'vyx arrived, passing through the great arched doorway. Alaric quickly surveyed the area. He could see that knee high tables were arranged in circular patterns around large open fires. In the center of the hall was a platform and he could see that it was being used by Yautja musicians, no doubt hunters who have an artistic side to them.

He followed Ja'anya and Kra'vyx past tables and their occupants. Alaric ignored the looks he was getting. Some were looking with respect and others not so pleased with him being on the ship. He felt a slight sense of insecurity from not having one of his axes with him. He had talked over this with Ja'anya and, begrudgingly, had promised not to bring them with him. As a gesture of peace.

It didn't take long to find their mother as she was sitting right next to Kal'deris in his red robe and ornate clothing. Alaric felt like a ton of bricks had just landed on him.

"What is he doing here?" Alaric asked Ja'anya with a lot of distrust in his voice.

"Elder Kal'deris is a friend of my parents and a surrogate father to me and Kra'vyx." Ja'anya said as they got closer.

'_Well, that clarifies things a bit.'_ Alaric thought. _'She could've explained that to me before the disks went flying.'_

The three friends reached the table and Kal'deris and Zel'tyr rose to greet them. Ja'anya and Kra'vyx greeted their mother while Alaric and Kal'deris exchanged a tense look at each other, Alaric's red eyes meeting with Kal'deris' sharp gold eyes, before everyone sat down on the cushions used in place of chairs.

"Servants." Kal'deris called out.

On cue, a line of Yautja servants came walking over from the kitchens, carrying ceramic dishes filled with various spit roasted meats and roasted vegetable-like things. Everyone went about getting their meal as Ja'anya pointed things out to Alaric who had no idea what things were which.

Kra'vyx was already stuffing his face with whatever he had dumped on his plate. A glare from his mother soon slowed his speed.

Kal'deris then decided to start conversation first.

"So, Alaric. I can see from the clothing you're wearing under that tunic that you were a ma-rine." Kal'deris said, piling his plate with large amounts of meat.

"Yes, I was a marine, more accurately Spec Ops lieutenant." Alaric answered in Yautja, as best as he could while he opted for a balanced meal. "I was part of a squad called the Archangels. I was codenamed Reaper after the Grim Reaper.

"Spec Ops? Ahh, The Elite.".

Kra'vyx looked up.

"What's this Grim Reaper?" Kra'vyx repeated with his mouth full of food.

"That's the ooman variant of Cetanu." Zel'tyr explained to her son. "And swallow before you talk."

Kra'vyx swallowed his food, coughing when he realized he hadn't chewed one morsel properly.

"What does this grim reaper look like?" Kra'vyx asked, wiping his mouth.

"Death, as he's often known, is portrayed as a skeleton in black robes with an hourglass in his left hand and a long scythe in the right." Alaric explained. "The hourglass represents the passage of time, life to be exact, and the scythe is used to 'reap' the souls of those whose 'time' is up."

Alaric took a sip from a cup next to him, coughing a slightly when he realized it was Yautja ale in his cup. Kal'deris snickered.

"And you can never defeat death." He said. "Death always gets you sooner or later. It's an inevitable fact of life and the sooner you accept it, the better."

Zel'tyr decided to change the subject back to something more positive. She didn't want to hear about death at the table, Sil'cais' demise being the exception.

"Did you live with your parents growing up?" Zel'tyr asked.

Alaric went silent. Ja'anya turned to him as he rubbed his neck. His hand then went down and grasped the tags and locket around his neck. Zel'tyr could instantly see that she had touched a sensitive issue.

"No, I was raised in the corps." Alaric finally stated. "I was orphaned at birth. My father's marine squad were the closest thing to a family I had while I was growing up."

Zel'tyr nodded in understanding.

"My apologies." she said.

Kel'deris adjusted his cushion.

"Raised by marines?" He pondered. "Then that means you were training at a young age."

Alaric nodded.

"Yes, I learned some things growing up." He confirmed.

Kra'vyx looked up.

"Do you know anything about your parents?" He asked. "Your father at least?"

There was a hint of concern in his voice. The reason for his concern is he knows how it feels. Zel'tyr, as it turns out, was pregnant with Kra'vyx when his father died and the sad thing is that his father hadn't even known. Kal'deris was the closest thing to a father he had growing up.

Alaric shook his head at Kra'vyx's question.

"I never knew or met my mother. She died giving birth to me." Alaric said, fumbling for something in a pouch on his belt. "I don't even have a picture of her. However, this is the only one of my father."

He pulled from a pouch behind his back, reverently, a folded photograph. It was old worn and with the edges starting to fray from the passage of time. He carefully unfolded it. Ja'anya looked at it.

It was a marine corps squad photo. There were seven marines in their armor in the photo, outside in front of their Cheyenne class dropship and just hanging around. In the middle squatting down, with Alaric's large axe propped up like a staff was a marine.

This was Alaric's father.

Ja'anya carefully took hold of the photo as Alaric let go of it. She could see the resemblance immediately. His father had spiked hair as well which draped right down to the ground and coiled where he was squatting and the eyes were the same, a deep dark red.

However there were a few differences. While Alaric was more slim and agile, his father was much more broad and built like a tank.

Ja'anya looked at Alaric and then back at the picture.

"You look just like him." She said while handing the photo to her brother. "A slimmer version of him."

Kra'vyx looked at the photo and his eyes went wide.

"Damn, he looks tough!" He said. "I'd hate to face him on a first hunt. No wonder you killed Sil'cias just like that."

"Well, that photo was taken after a difficult campaign." Alaric said. "A few months before he went MIA, which was before I was born"

He sighed.

"I think the grief was too much for my mother to cope with." He guessed.

Kra'vyx showed the photo to his mother. She carefully took it in her hand and looked while Kal'deris leaned over to look.

"What happened to your father?" She asked. "Didn't your fellow oomans investigate?"

Alaric nodded.

"They conducted thorough searches but they never found out." Alaric answered. "It was like he just vanished without a trace and was never seen again. The only thing they found of him was his axe, hidden nearby. No one knew what to make of it since they say he never let it out of his grasp during a mission."

Alaric picked up a turnip looking thing from his plate.

"Do you mind if we stop talking about my past?" He asked, clearly uncomfortable. "You lot know about me but I don't know anything about you lot."

From his tone, it was clear wanted to stop talking about it, so Zel'tyr got to the main subject.

"So, Alaric" Zel'Tyr said, picking up a piece of meat. "What brings you to Lai'Kairis? Apart from saving my daughter from bad bloods."

Alaric looked to Ja'anya before answering.

"Well." Alaric said, scratching his head. "The reason I am here is a matter of a very personal vendetta. And this is going back to my past again."

"In what context?"

Alaric picked up his knife and juggled it in his fingers. Light reflected off its shining blade.

"Hunting them down and killing every last one of them." He said. "It's what they did to me with brutal results."

Alaric then stabbed the knife into table and it penetrated the hard wood table to everyone's surprise. Ja'anya saw that Alaric was reluctant as always to talk about anything personal from his past so she spoke up on his behalf.

"Bad bloods murdered his entire family." She clarified. "Down to the last child and family friend."

Zel'tyr and Kra'vyx were utterly appalled at the fact. Kra'vyx for one dropped whatever he was eating, Kal'deris muttered several profanities, and Zel'tyr was silent. However, her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles were going white and blood was seeping through her fingers. Ja'anya saw this and shook her mother's hand. Zel'tyr looked down, seeing drops of blood on the table.

"Sorry, daughter." She apologized, wiping her hand on her cloth napkin. "These things always get my blood boiling."

"Why would they do that?" Kra'vyx asked, horrified. "Where's the honor?"

"Honor?" Kal'deris scoffed. "Kra'vyx, honor has nothing to do whatsoever with bad bloods in any shape or form.".

Alaric pulled the knife from the table and poked at the hole he made.

"I never found out the true reason, only that they attacked me without warning when I was unarmed and my wife and infant son couldn't protect themselves." Alaric said before scoffing "Fucking sadistic cowards, every single one of them."

"Too true." Kal'deris commended.

"At any rate, that Sil'cais the scourged just so happened to be one of them." Alaric continued, before smirking. "And, by my ancestors, did he have a reckoning."

Kra'vyx chuckled as he brought his food back to his mouth.

"I think the expression on his severed head was proof enough." He commented.

"So, how did you manage to beat him." Kal'deris asked before munching on some dark meat.

"Well, seeing that he wasn't going to win one on one." Alaric explained. "He charged at me the moment my back was turned and stabbed me through the lung with a dagger."

Kra'vyx flinched.

"That must have hurt." He said.

Alaric looked at him with a 'you think?' expression clearly visible.

"Getting stabbed by anything hurts." Alaric said, "Needless to say, I lost my patience with him after that and finished him off, with certain satisfaction on my part."

"Yes, but how? Zel'tyr clarified.

Alaric went silent so Ja'anya spoke on his behalf again.

"Alaric has... let's just say a threshold." She said, quoting what he first told her. "And when he reaches that threshold... it's safer if you back off."

"Sil'cais discovered that a bit too late and, suffice to say, he got what he deserved." Alaric finished.

"Damn right too, I would hunt him down if he had laid his claws on Ja'anya." Kal'deris admitted.

"He tried to use his suicide charge but Alaric felt insulted by that." Ja'anya added.

Alaric scoffed in disgust. He remembered how Sil'cais tried to kill himself and them with his bomb. That was just insulting to Alaric.

"Suicide!" He said, "I'd rather go charging into a xenomorph nest with only a spoon then suicide.".

Everyone else just looked at him when he said that.

"What I mean by that is why bother fighting in a battle if you don't accept that you'll be killed by the enemy. You accept your fate or don't bother fighting at all."

Kal'deris crossed him arms.

"What a fatalistic, yet somehow brave, belief." He said.

They continued eating and talking. Ja'anya was pleased that Alaric was starting to feel more secure and open to them.

You get on his good side and he's a very good friend.

Zel'tyr told Alaric about herself. She told him how she met Ja'anya's father during one of her hunts, how he was getting medical components and how he inadvertently attracted the prey, an insectoid behemoth, she was hunting. She fondly recalled how her attacks were useless until he stepped in and took the behemoth down with one stab from his combi-stick. His teaching in medical arts let him knew exactly where to strike for the most damage. It was then and there that they fell for each other.

They became life-mates soon after that.

Kal'deris fondly recalled that moment when his friend came back with a lovely female with him. He had felt incredibly jealous of him for that but he respected his friend enough to leave it be. Kal'deris was named to be their children's guardian and remembered the day when Ja'anya was born.

That was a special and funny moment.

As Zel'tyr went into labor and the contractions started, she was rushed to the medical wing where her mate was already waiting. They both allowed their hands to be squeezed by Zel'tyr as the contractions intensified and they both regretted it when they found their hands being crushed.

They had to endure it for three whole hours and when Ja'anya finally came into the world they couldn't feel their hands anymore. Then again, the pain was worth it when they saw the little girl that Zeltyr and her mate had created.

Alaric commented that the same thing had happened to him when his son was born.

Kra'vyx talked about his childhood. About how he would always get into crazy situations involving his friends. Everyone often wondered how he even let himself get into them.

One such account was when Kra'vyx was around thirteen and, on a dare, strapped himself into a barrel and was then pushed down several flights of stairs and then went over a ledge. He emerged from the cracked barrel, not scratched but a little nauseated from the many times he went spinning.

He also has an affinity for cunning and sometimes surreal pranks on his friends, usually in the form of traps.

Despite his quirky antics, he was immediately likable by most on the Lai'Kairis.

Ja'anya told her family about how she and Alaric met. How he fought against a dozen psuedo-raptors and survived, barely. She later admitted about how intrigued she was when she first met him.

She kept her growing feelings for him silent.

She planned to tell Alaric when they were alone.

"Daughter, I have something here for you." Zel'tyr said, reaching for something under the table.

She pulled out an instrument, a lyre. Ja'anya reached out and took hold of it. It was a lovely piece of art, very fluid in shape like the roots of a tree. There were carvings in the wood, carvings of plants.

Carvings of medicinal plants.

"Mother, this is special." She said, looking at the carvings.

"Your father played this from time to time." Zel'tyr said as Ja'anya placed it on her lap.

Kal'deris chuckled.

"Time to time?" He said, "I could hardly get any sleep when he practiced with that thing."

Ja'anya turned to Alaric who was busy balancing his knife on a finger, showing Kra'vyx the concept of balance.

"Hey Alaric, do you know a song?" Ja'anya asked.

Alaric thought for a second and he had just one song in mind. A song that he had listened to throughout his childhood and beyond.

A song that had always made him feel secure, safe, and calm.

"Well, there is one." Alaric said, flicking the knife in the air and catching it. "You mind if I try?"

Ja'anya handed him the lyre. Yautja around could be heard muttering that no human could play anything worthwhile. Alaric reached around his back and pulled out his tome from another pouch. He carefully flicked through pages until he came to the right page. He read it for a second before putting his tome back.

Alaric placed the instrument on his knee, flicked a few strings to get the feel of it, and played. What he was playing was something that no one had ever heard, a soft melodious harmony. Something about this song had a very calming effect. Even some other Yautja turned their heads to see where the music was coming from.

Alaric softly hummed to himself as he followed his memory.

Ja'anya watched his fingers as he strummed the strings, admiring how he flawlessly played.

Alaric was very focused as he played the song in a more somber tone, no doubt the sad part of the song's tale. Then, he played more uplifting verses as the song followed to a positive high that soon ended with a soft climatic end.

Alaric finished strumming the last strings and lowered the lyre. The first thing he noticed the silence and the many pairs of Yautja eyes looking at him. He handed the lyre back to Ja'anya.

"I feel better after playing that." He muttered to himself. "And, from the way everyone is looking, they feel better too.

"A warrior, a philosopher and a musician." Kal'deris said "What surprises have you got for us next I wonder?"

Kra'vyx pulled out the sculpture Alaric gave him.

"He's a bit of a carver too." He said showing Kal'deris the hoplite figure.

Kal'deris looked at the bone sculpture. He was amazed at the detail despite its small size.

"You carved this by hand?" He asked, "This is amazing detail for something this small."

"It's a hobby that humans do." Alaric said. "People make models from scratch or from kits. Some of the detail some people put into them are amazing."

It was there that this nice evening with Ja'anya's family was ruined by some inconsiderate and bigoted eavesdroppers.

"You got a nice looking skull there, spike-head." a Yautja shouted at him.

Alaric perked his ears.

"Spike-head?" He said, confused.

"If you're wondering why your mother died on you, go take a look in a mirror!" The Yautja shouted at him again.

Snickers were heard from the Yautja's friends as they waited for a reaction. Alaric rolled his eyes as everyone in the table looked in the direction the outburst came from. It came from a table a few tables away and was occupied by a bunch of hard looking Yautja hunters. No doubt they had been using their masks' audio amplifiers to listen in on them.

"Oh, it's them again." Kal'deris said in disgust.

"I thought those bastards were still on their hunt." Zel'tyr cursed.

Alaric sighed as he stood up. He was starting to get annoyed at how some Yautja still wouldn't leave him be. Ja'anya grabbed him by the arm.

"Alaric don't." She pleaded.

Alaric looked at her, knelt down, and whispered in her ear.

"Trust me." He whispered.

He stood back up and saw some of those hunters were cracking their knuckles, anticipating a fight.

"You know, hunters." He said, keeping a calm tone. "I have got a sense of humor and it's telling me your humor is in very bad taste. I wouldn't be surprised if you crap from your mouths."

He turned his back on them. He intended to ignore them, only that they goaded him in one of the worst ways.

"Aww, little ooman is gonna run off to his father!" One of them said. "Oh wait, he hasn't got one."

"If I was your father I'd abandon you too!" A second one said.

"Yeah, 'cause you're so weak and pathetic he'd be disgraced!" The third one shouted.

They all laughed at Alaric and then the leader said something that cut Alaric deep.

"Hey runt!" He said, gesturing his goons to be silent. "I bet your father...is as ugly as you are!"

Alaric had his eyes clenched shut as he took the abuse. He clenched his fist so hard that his knuckles cracked.

Then his hair twitched for a second, his hair forming into sharp spikes before reverting to its normal state.

Ja'anya's eyes went wide as she thought that Alaric was going to go into Rage. Her fears were justified when Alaric opened his eyes and they weren't crimson orbs. Kal'deris noticed she gave the same reaction when he smacked Alaric in the face when they arrived.

Why is she concerned?

He heard ruffling of cushions and saw that Kra'vyx stood up.

"What the fuck is your problem!" He shouted at them.

"Our problem is that you got a Pyode amedha in your presence and he's not dead." The leader said, pointing at Alaric before picking up a knife "And I'll correct that right now!"

He threw the knife as onlooking Yautja reacted in a mixture of shock and disgust. Ja'anya would have screamed but she knew Alaric.

Alaric, at lightning fast speed, spun around and caught the knife a mere inch from his face. And he was not happy when he lowered the knife. Yautja around murmured at this spectacle. Everyone at the table was amazed by that feat.

"One thing I have got," He half-spoke, half-growled. "is a strong sense of kinship." he held the knife up and grabbed the blade with his left hand "Now, maybe you inbreeds can pool your collective intelligence together and see that I am asking you, nicely, for an apology.".

He then snapped the blade off in a sharp crack of metal. He dumped the two halves to the floor where they clattered.

The hunters were silent for a second as they took in the insult that Alaric just threw at them. Then the leader smirked. It seems they would get what they want after all.

"Hunters, let give the spike headed runt an apology." He said, hostilely.

His comrades snickered and cracked their knuckles again as they walked over to Alaric. Yautja around were busy getting out of the vicinity as a fight was about to erupt. Ja'anya looked to Kal'deris to see if he would put a stop to this.

Kal'deris eyes told her that he had no intention of stopping this fight. He wanted to see these hunters put in their place and he also wanted to see Alaric in action.

Kra'vyx walked up to Alaric.

"I got your back." He said.

Alaric nodded.

"He who sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother." He said, quoting Henry the V.

They both walked forward to meet their foes. Ja'anya, Zel'tyr, and Kal'deris could only watch. Kal'deris would step in if things got out of hand. Zel'tyr would now see if Kra'vyx had been paying attention to her teachings.

Alaric sized up his foes. They were in full armor, two were in standard hunter armor, a third was in a lighter version while their leader had more gold ornamentation.

The looks on their faces betrayed their overconfidence.

The leader walked right up to Alaric and towered over him.

"You know, I'm not going to dirty my talons fighting you." He spat at Alaric before steeping back past his goons. "Get him!"

His goons went charging at Alaric and Kra'vyx.

Alaric dodged and parried the punches and kicks aimed at him. Kra'vyx did a good job in blocking as well. Alaric countered his opponent by grabbing his right arm into a twist before snapping his arm the wrong way. Before the Yautja had time to scream in pain, he was sent face first into the nearest table with enough force to break a chunk off with his face. The hunter struggled to get up with one arm before Alaric gave a stomp to the back of his head, sending him back into the table where he didn't get back up.

Kra'vyx piled into his opponent and they both went crashing to the ground, punching each other until Kra'vyx managed to get his arm around the hunter's neck. He then tried to force him into submission but the more experienced fighter had other plans. He got out of the hold and pinned Kra'vyx to the floor. He grabbed Kra'vyx by the head and started punching him in the face again and again. Kra'vyx, who had his arms pinned behind his back, could only take the increasingly heavier blows.

Ja'anya had her hands over her mouth in horror as she watched her brother getting beaten badly. Then she saw Alaric charging to his rescue, roaring loudly and with a fist drawn back.

The hunter looked up to see who was roaring, only to receive a punch dead center in the face. The punch had enough force to send him rolling off of Kra'vyx who spat out green blood and picked himself up.

Alaric dodged the hunter's counterattack effortlessly before giving one of his own. The hunter was sent crashing into the deck, clutching his broken chest and gagging for air from an elbow to the ribcage.

Alaric and Kra'vyx regrouped as the lightly armored hunter darted towards them. This one was a lot faster then his predecessors. Alaric found himself being outmaneuvered for once and Kra'vyx found himself on the floor again, holding his head. The hunter kept his pace up, intending to whittle them both down and then finish them off at their weakest.

The hunters' leader smirked as Alaric and Kra'vyx were being beaten.

Alaric would not have any of this. These bastards insulted his father's memory and he was going to make them pay. His eyes flickered crimson for a second and the world seemed to slow down as he focused. And now he saw where the hunter was coming from. He swung an arm out, catching the now surprised hunter. His feet left the ground from his sudden violent stop and then Alaric delivered a pile driving punch to the face. All this happened in a split second as the hunter went crashing into the ground, blood spewing from his face. Alaric then grabbed him by the leg and snapped his knee with a kick for good measure.

To anyone watching it was like Alaric blurred as he moved.

The leader by now had stopped smirking and was enraged that his hunters had failed at such a short time. He reared himself and roared. Alaric braced himself, taking up his stance. Ja'anya watched as Alaric stood his ground, not budging for anything. Kra'vyx had now heaved himself up and, seeing that Alaric had things under control, staggered back to the table to be fretted over by his mother and sister.

The leader and Alaric just stood there, staring at each other. Alaric could sense that this Yautja wasn't nearly as confident as before. Probably seeing his three hunters being beaten by a human single handedly had caused him to lose his nerve. Alaric at this point decided to give this Yautja a little insult of his own.

"I can see why you sent your 'friends' first." Alaric said, catching the Yautja's attention. "It's because you will only pick on people you think are weaker then yourself. You send your goons in first, let them beat the target into submission and then you deliver the final blow. Just like a typical scavenger."

He lowered his stance, making himself appear vulnerable, with his arms out stretched to the side. Ja'anya remembered how Sil'cais made the mistake of charging at Alaric when he did that.

"So I suggest you finally grow a pair and come get me!"

The leader was now so enraged that he roared a final time and charged Alaric. Alaric responded by simply stepping to the side and giving the Yautja a roundhouse kick to the back of the head. The hunter leader responded with a swinging fist that Alaric ducked under, sweeping the leader off his feet. Alaric unleashed a devastating knee to his back as the Yautja landed on it and bones could be heard cracking. Alaric heaved the Yautja up on his feet before delivering a final punch to the face. There was enough force to sending the hunter off his feet, teeth flying from his mouth and crashing into the ground to join his friends.

Alaric dusted his bloodied hands, the bandages had helped protect his hands as he'd expected, and looked at the pile of groaning Yautja who had now had a thorough ass kicking. This was a classic case of bullies dishing out what they couldn't take. He wiped some blood from his lips from where that fast hunter landed a punch.

He walked to the leader and trod on his fractured back, making the Yautja scream in agony.

"Now, where is my apology?" Alaric demanded in a firm commanding tone.

"Go to hell, ooman!" The leader spat at him.

Alaric responded by grinding his boot into the Yautja, making him squirm and stifle pain filled grunts.

"Pardon?" Alaric said.

He heard the leader mumble something.

"Louder, so I can hear you." Alaric ordered, twisting his boot again,

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The Yautja yelled "Now get off my back!"

Alaric got off of the Yautja.

"Why you didn't say that earlier I don't know." He sighed. "But I accept it, grudgingly."

He lowered his head to the Yautja's

"I look forward to an honorable rematch." He added sincerely.

Clapping could be heard from Kal'deris as he came walking up. The elder looked at the hunters and held a communicator to his mouth.

"Medical, send out medics to the western banquet hall." He said before lowering it.

He turned to Alaric.

"I must commend you on your skills, Alaric." He praised. "You have the fires of the warrior in you. Now, I suggest you take Ja'anya and Kra'vyx out of here. Me and Zel'tyr will deal with these disgraces."

Alaric nodded and walked back to the table to a relieved Ja'anya and a pleased but bruised Kra'vyx. Zel'tyr had already stood up.

"Alaric, I can now thank you for saving my daughter and now my son." She said warmly. "You are a welcome friend of our family."

She then walked over to Kal'deris who was busy disentangling the banged up hunters. Some of the hunters couldn't help but yell in pain as broken bones and bruised flesh shifted.

"Oh, shut up and take the pain!" Alaric shouted at them.

Alaric held a hand out to Ja'anya. Kra'vyx snickered at Alaric shouting at those beaten up hunters.

"Care to join me for a walk?" He asked.

Ja'anya smiled and took his hand.

Alaric and Ja'anya walked through the botanical gardens, lit only by flaming torches lining the path and the reflecting light of the planet that Lai'kairis orbited. Ja'anya had her lyre in her hands while Alaric had his hands in his pockets. He needed to be in a calm place after that unfortunate scuffle in the banquet hall.

Kra'vyx had gone back to the training barracks, no doubt to tell his friends about the fight he had been in. it was amazing that Kra'vyx got beaten in the face and he didn't feel affected by it, only that he wouldn't let anyone touch his face.

Alaric sighed as he walked.

"Sorry about my reaction." He apologized to Ja'anya. "But I couldn't let them get away with that."

"I understand." Ja'anya answered. "If they had insulted my father, Mother wouldn't have been as merciful as you were."

Alaric chuckled and Ja'anya joined him.

"Never provoke a mother's wrath." He said sagely while looking around at the gardens. "This place is peaceful. I never thought you could have something like this in space."

He looked up at the clear ceiling, seeing the stars and distant nebulae. He knew that the marked were out there somewhere. And the grudge will be fulfilled sooner or later.

Ja'anya walked up to a tree that had fruit growing on it. She knew this tree so well. It was the same tree that her father would hold her up to pick the fruit from. She put a hand on the tree and looked up. She could see one of the oval shaped fruit hanging above.

That one is quite low, she thought, maybe I can get it.

She stretched up to get it as Alaric watched. She had her hand stretched out as far as she could go and was standing on her toes but, curses to her smaller size; she was still out of reach. She jumped to gain some extra height but the fruit, probably mocking her by now, was just out of reach.

Alaric saw she was about to give up and decided to give her a boost up.

"Going up!" He said happily.

Ja'anya was startled when Alaric came from behind, knelt down, and put his head under her legs. He got her legs and before she could protest he stood up with her sitting on his shoulders. Ja'anya almost fell off but she frantically clasped Alaric's arms and head for stability.

Alaric chuckled as she let go of his face.

"Top floor, fruits, and vegetables." He said imitating an elevator's speaker.

Ja'anya saw that she was up to the fruit's level now. She giggled at Alaric for his thinking and went about picking a few fruit off their stems.

Guess the fruit isn't mocking her now.

Alaric knelt back down and she hopped off his shoulders. Alaric stood back up, rubbing his neck.

"Come on, let's go home." Ja'anya said warmly as she walked past Alaric.

She noticed that Alaric was walking in the opposite direction. He had seen something. She saw him walking towards the water in the north. She followed him as he stopped at the edge of the pool. He looked up at the fifty foot falls.

"I think I found my meditation spot." He said pointing at it.

They shared the fruit back at Ja'anya's home while they sat by the fire. Ja'anya found the fruit to be as rich and sweet as she remembered. Alaric found it very pleasant as well. He removed his bandages and washed his hands before eating though.

"No wonder you were so desperate to get this." Alaric said.

"It is my favorite." She said, licking the juice from her fingers.

A beep came from her home's communicator. She got up and walked over to answer. Alaric watched the fire as she talked on. It sounded like she was talking to someone she knew.

She hung up and turned to Alaric.

"Alaric." She called out.

Alaric turned to her as she walked over and sat down.

"Kal'deris had consulted with the other elders, reporting your actions against Sil'cais and those hunters and they have given you permission to perform the clan rites." She said.

"Clan rites?" Alaric questioned. "As in 'joining' the clan?"

"Yes. I feel that this would be your best chance at finding those murderers."

Alaric took this information in as Ja'anya sat back down. He was being asked to join the Yautja race.

'_While I wanted their help.'_ He thought. _'I didn't expect to be taken in by the clan. I was expecting locations or even info on those bastards and then off I go to kill them.'_

He then reasoned that out of all his options, both present and future, this was the best possible chance he'd get to hunt down his family's killers.

It felt ironic that he had to become one to hunt them down.

After a lengthy period of silence, Alaric looked back to Ja'anya.

"I'll do it." Alaric confirmed. "As the saying goes 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'."

Ja'anya smiled at his answer.

"Then I suggest that we should get an early night." She said standing up. "You'll need to prepare. Mother can train you along with Kra'vyx."

Alaric ate the last of his fruit and stood up. He threw the fruit remains into the fire, watching them burst into flames as Ja'anya walked into the bedroom. He checked that his axes were secure in their harness before following Ja'anya.

Alaric averted his gaze as he saw Ja'anya stripping down. She had already removed her gown and skirt. She was removing her jewelry and she noticed Alaric had his back to her.

"Alaric, you've seen me naked before." Ja'anya chided while removing her circlet. "Why do you keep turning away?"

Alaric turned back around.

"Sorry, force of habit." He said. "I do it to give people privacy."

He looked at the bed.

"Nice to have your bed back, isn't it?" He said as he went back outside. "I'll go camp by the fire while you get some rest."

Ja'anya sat on her bed.

"Alaric." Ja'anya called.

There was a pause before Alaric answered.

"Yes?" He asked.

He stuck his head back in the bedroom to see that Ja'anya was now under the covers. She had a begging look on her face.

"I'd rather you stayed here with me." She said patting the space next to her.

'_I knew there was a catch!'_ Alaric thought as he kept a straight face.

"You sure?" He asked. "I think I've intruded on your privacy long enough."

Ja'anya simply shook her head at his comment. It seemed that she still preferred sleeping with him rather than being alone.

"I have grown to like sleeping with you." She admitted. "And I'd rather you slept in a proper bed."

Alaric simply sighed and undid his tunic. Evidently, this conversation could go on all night. His hair came undone as he yanked his tunic off his head. He muttered as he moved his hair out of his face. He placed his tunic at the foot of the bed.

Ja'anya watched him and her eyes went wider when his removed his fatigues, leaving only his boxers.

He noticed her staring at him, as if waiting for him to take them off.

"Can't get the shower out of your mind, can you?" He smirked as he sat on the bed.

Ja'anya smirked back at him.

"What can I say, you have a great body." She remarked.

"Like when you and those females were eyeing me on the obstacle course?"

Alaric pulled the covers over him and laid down. He felt Ja'anya huddle up to him as the lights went out. And he could definitely hear her purring as she laid her head on his shoulder. She had been doing this since the fight with Sil'cais. At first, he thought it was just reassurance but now he knew that there was something else going on here. She had taken a real liking to him.

After fives minutes of Ja'anya nuzzling into his shoulder, he decided that he'd better get the inevitable out of the way, now that she was entwining her legs with his.

"Oh, come here." He said, grabbing her by the waist.

Ja'anya squeaked as Alaric pulled her on top of him. She panted lightly as she took in the situation.

Alaric had pulled her on top of him.

She felt his body beneath her as her dreadlocks draped over them. Alaric removed his hands from her hips.

Ja'anya felt a bit dominating, being on top of the Slayer.

"Better?" He asked her.

She looked at his eyes before doing something that took Alaric completely by surprise.

Even though it felt kind of neat, it still was really weird.

Ja'anya fully opened her mandibles and before Alaric could react or even so much as protest, she smothered his mouth with hers. She lightly gripped his head as she shut her eyes. Alaric could only lay there, eyes darting around and wondering what the hell she was doing as her mandibles lightly gripped his face.

'_Was she kissing him?'_

Getting kissed by someone who had no lips felt curiously odd. He could feel her sharp teeth graze his lips. He then felt something long and fleshy lightly drag across his lips.

'_Was she now giving him tongue?'_

Alaric figured they must use licking as a sign of affection along with forehead contact. But, thinking logically, they could use their mandibles to gently nip at each other.

Then Ja'anya lightly nipped his face with her mandibles.

'_Gotta admire her spirit.'_ He thought. _'Just like Sam.'_

She pulled her face from his and starting nuzzling at his neck with her hands on his shoulders. She was purring even louder.

Alaric scratched his face where her mandibles nipped him and cupped her head in his hand and brought her into view. Her eyes glittered like amethysts in the dark while his were like rubies.

"You're serious about us aren't you?" He whispered.

She nodded.

"I can't hold it back anymore, Alaric." She whispered back. "I've never felt this strongly for any male."

Ja'anya in the past never had any attraction to males, not even the few who took a fancy to her. But for Alaric, even though he was a human, she felt something else. Whereas all the other males were always competing for the best trophy and beating each others heads in, Alaric was a compassionate, honorable, and philosophical warrior, fighting when only he had to. Yautja males always followed survival of the fittest while Alaric would always help those he considered friends, regardless of the consequences.

His growing brotherly bond with Kra'vyx was proof of that.

These were the qualities that Ja'anya loved about him.

Ja'anya laid her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. She purred loudly as she remembered the first day they had shared a bed.

Alaric had a conflict in his mind. He still loved his wife but then he started to grow attracted to this huntress, despite denying it. He remembered something his father once quoted from his squad.

_'If you remain locked in the past, you will never be at peace.'_

Alaric wasn't sure why he thought of that but he felt that it had meaning for this situation. His own wife herself said that if anything ever happened to her, Alaric must move on.

He looked at Ja'anya.

"Ja'anya." He said, catching her attention.

Ja'anya rose her head from his chest and she saw a slight smile on his face.

"I have a compromise in mind." He said. "This doesn't change anything concerning my wife."

Ja'anya lifted herself so that she faced him directly.

"When and if I pass the clan rites, then maybe we can have something together. Deal?"

Ja'anya could only bury her head in his neck and purred even louder. Alaric had actually considered them being together.

Alaric embraced her in his arms.

"I'll take that as a yes." He chuckled.

* * *

><p>A lone Yautja sat in a stone hall on a magnificent throne. This was an ancient Yautja, one of the few strongest and wisest hunters to ever live. A master of a thousand hunts.<p>

The setting sun behind his throne cast his shadow over the entire hall. Casting his authority upon the stone. He casually juggled a glass filled with ale in his hand while reading an ancient tome with the other.

A chime came from the throne and the ancient pressed a button. A holographic screen projected from the throne, revealing another Yautja. This one looked to be of high caste too, possibly a veteran hunter.

There were many scars and marks of battle on his body and armor but the big distinguishing feature was that he was missing his left eye. Only a metal plate covered his eye socket.

"Yes, Mal'kah?" The ancient asked. "What is the meaning of this calling?"

"My lord, you are not going to believe this." The scarred veteran said. "There has been an... unexpected event on the Lai'Kairis Clan-ship."

The ancient adjusted his seat to make himself more comfortable. He lifted the glass of ale that he was drinking to his mouth. He took a gulp off of ale.

"Mal'kah, I have seen many things in this galaxy. What makes you think I'll believe what you have to say?"

The veteran was silent.

"I think it's simpler if you just watch this holo-footage. I couldn't believe it myself."

The screen flickered and what was shown caused the ancient to crush his glass in his hand, spilling the ale and traces of his blood all over his trophy and gold ornamented armor and robes. Having sticky clothing was the least of his worries.

It was footage of Alaric holding the head of Sil'cais to a massing of Yautja. The film fast forwarded to where Kal'deris threw the disks at Alaric and the Ancient watched as Alaric parried the first and sheared the second in half.

The film then flickered and switched to the training academy and Alaric decking that bully with a kick to the face.

The Ancients eyes went wide and a growl rumbled in his throat.

The final scene was in the banquet hall and Alaric dusting his hands after putting down four hunters.

The film then flickered off and Mal'kah came back into view.

The ancient gave off a loud frustrated roar that echoed in the hall, causing the native birds to fly off in fright. Mal'kah didn't flinch as he saw his lord thump the arm of the throne. The Ancient breathed heavily. It was like this was the one thing he did not want to see or even hear about.

It was like he actually feared it.

"How?" He growled, "How does he and his wretched line keep surviving?" He looked at Mal'kah. "Didn't I give specific orders to make sure they were all dead?"

Mal'kah crossed his arms.

"I didn't think an ooman could survive a beating like that..." He started.

The ancient thumped his throne again.

"This is NO ordinary ooman!" He shouted at the hologram. 'He's the direct descendant of the bloodline! If anything, they are very hard to kill!"

"Are you sure? Judging the number of times they... copulated with oomans, I'm surprised there's any of that blood left in them."

The Ancient glared at the veteran.

"The bloodline is very stubborn and it refuses to die out, regardless who they copulate with."

Mal'kah merely sighed, as if he wasn't concerned about what the Ancient will do to him for his failure.

"From what I gathered from my sources, YOUR sources." He started. "He had left the ma-rines to settle down and, supposedly, rested his weapons never to use them again. We struck when he was most vulnerable and culled his mate, progeny, and anyone else who had contact with him. As you instructed."

He said that in a tone that it was the Ancient's fault anyway. The Ancient glared at the veteran again. He had been there personally the day he struck when Alaric was still a child. Not even those marines, his father's own squad could protect him. How he survived on his own at that age was anyone's guess.

"How did he get to Lai'Kairis anyway?" The ancient asked.

"A huntress found him and brought him to the ship, no doubt impressed by his combat skills." Mal'kah guessed. "I think the holo-footage is evidence enough."

Mal'kah snickered.

"I think that's the result of making sure his bloodline never existed at all. Later generations would never know that knowledge." He said. "Then again, I am itching for a little... redemption."

He rubbed the eye plate as he said the last words to clarify his point. The Ancient sat back in his throne, in thought.

Then his brows rose as he had an idea. Something that can have Alaric killed and attribute it to a freak occurrence.

"I have a plan." He started. "We may be able to use these 'setbacks' to our advantage."

'_Advantage, my mottled arse!'_ Mal'kah thought angrily._'Killing his clan had reset the catalyst when this ooman had no knowledge about the truth of his origin.'_

"Has this 'ooman' accepted the clan rites." The Ancient asked.

"Not that I know of, yet." Mal'kah said. "Why? You already thought of something?"

The Ancient smirked.

"When his first hunt comes," The ancient ordered. "Have his group sent to the world of ice and free the Primarch.".


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten- Rage unleashed.

The week that followed in preparation for Alaric's clan rites was one of intense training. Not that Alaric complained; he was always one to go for a challenge. As Ja'anya said, her mother was more then happy to train him with Kra'vyx as his sparring partner.

Although there was little to teach Alaric in the ways of the hunter, since he'd basically lived like that for most of his life, Alaric was able to teach them a few things in turn. His pain suppression was the most popular thing he could teach.

One day showed that Alaric had caught more interest then anyone would have thought.

Alaric was busy doing pull ups on an over hanging bar with heavy weights strapped on his legs to provide resistance. The weights did their purpose in making the ascents difficult but his endurance was starting to make them obsolete as he quickly picked up momentum a few minutes after the next weight block is added.

Ja'anya, Zel'tyr, and a few other Unblooded females were watching from the side as Alaric asked Kra'vyx to put more weights on.

"Kra'vyx, put another weight on." Alaric said, hanging by his arms a foot off the ground.

Kra'vyx shrugged his shoulders.

"Alaric, you've already got all the weights that we're allowed to use." He explained.

Alaric looked at his legs. The heavy lead weights made his legs as blocky as a robot's.

"You serious?" He asked.

"Yes. How you can pull yourself up with that much weight, I don't know."

Alaric thought for second about what to use next when a creak was heard. It came from the bar he was hanging on. Looking up he saw that the fittings were coming apart. It looked like the bar couldn't take the weight anymore. Then the apparatus slipped out of its place and Alaric went landing on his butt on the floor with the bars clattering down around him. Kra'vyx looked at Alaric on the floor and then looked up at where the bars used to be.

"That's another damned thing I've broken now." Alaric cursed, standing up and detaching the weights from his legs.

The weights went impacting the dirt ground in small clouds. He stretched his legs before picking them up and bundling them in his arms. Kra'vyx picked up the pull bar and they both walked off to put them out of the way.

That wasn't the first thing Alaric had unintentionally broken during one of his training sessions. He'd snapped combi-sticks in half from swinging them, smashing through thin wooden walls in a misjudged leap and he had accidentally ripped the zip line on the obstacle course off its line when he went down too fast before skidding on his back for a few feet.

Kra'vyx and Alaric laughed at that.

"They're each as bad as the other when it comes to breaking things." Zel'tyr said, getting up from her seat and walking over to them.

Alaric greeted her and then suggested they try his evasive parkour techniques again. Kra'vyx agreed enthusiastically. Since the fight in the hall, he had wanted to increase his speed so he wouldn't get pummeled like that again. Alaric led him to the ring and, after giving the traditional bow to each other, they dueled.

Ja'anya watched as Alaric and her brother wrestled, blocked, and evaded each others attacks with Zel'tyr watching from the side, judging the match. Ja'anya could tell that Alaric was holding back to give Kra'vyx a chance. If Alaric went at it full force, Kra'vyx would be on the ground before he even felt it. Every time that Kra'vyx managed to land a blow or dodge of Alaric's attacks, he would get encouraging praise.

"That ooman really is something." She heard a huntress say.

"He is, isn't he?" Kra'vyx's striped female friend said.

Ja'anya noticed that these huntresses had starting taking much more interest in Alaric then they had previously when he first arrived. Their inhibitions about him being a human were eroding away the more they watched him train.

The news of him taking down four hunters with his fists spread quickly throughout Lai'Kairis. There had been Yautja of various castes who came to see The Slayer train. But these huntresses seemed to be the most constant spectators.

"From the way you spoke Ly'enta, I would think you are starting to fancy him." A huntress sitting on the railing said.

"I am not!" The huntress protested.

"Then why are you blushing."

Ja'anya listened as they started acting like, what Alaric called 'high school cheerleaders'. And, like he said, they were competing for the star quarterback. Alaric admitted that he had received that treatment before during his teen years in the corps. But he didn't fancy any of the potential girlfriends. In fact, during his childhood, he was often a loner and only had a small circle of friends. He never really became personal with too many people.

'_Too bad for them!'_ Ja'anya thought gleefully. _'Alaric's already taken.'_

The dense thud of a foot impacting the ground was heard as the spectators saw Kra'vyx bending backwards with Alaric pushing. Kra'vyx then as instructed fell backwards with Alaric before rolling on top of him, pinning the Slayer of the floor. The purpose being to turn the opponent's weight against him and assume control of the struggle.

Bending like a reed in the wind.

Kra'vyx got off of Alaric and Alaric gave him a thumbs up.

"Good attempt." Alaric commended, getting up. "A bit hesitant but not bad."

Zel'tyr gave her opinion.

"A simple and effective way of surprising your foes." She added.

"I wouldn't recommend it on xenos. I tried once and it wasn't pleasant." Alaric added. "Suffice to say, it was like wrestling a constrictor."

A low rumbling was heard coming from Kra'vyx's gut.

"And it looks like the winner deserves a meal." Zel'tyr said.

Kra'vyx muttered to himself as they walked to the side lines, towards Ja'anya and the huntresses. Ja'anya walked up with towels in her hands and Alaric and Kra'vyx wiped themselves down to remove the sweat and dirt from their bodies. Alaric noticed that the huntresses were all looking at him inquisitively.

"If you lot are done staring at me, can we go get some sustenance?" Alaric asked with casual smugness.

The huntresses started walking off, a few moving with a distinctive posture.

"I think you got yourself a following of potentials." Kra'vyx said, winking

He saw Ja'anya glaring at him and he coughed nervously. It was evident that she didn't approve of what he'd hinted. And even less on account that Alaric was all hers.

'_Oh great!'_Alaric thought ruefully. _'Now I've got a whole pack of females eyeing me.'_

* * *

><p>The night before the clan rites was productive for Alaric as he got the last few hours of training in before, at Ja'anya's and Kra'vyx's suggestion, they all went for a night out. Alaric was shown many of things that would be part of clan life. He had taken particular interest in the artistic crafts. He had attempted to try making a circlet but it ended up looking like a headband made of razor wire. He didn't mind because he was learning as he went.<p>

What he did excel in was sculpting. He was able to do small sculptures that any Yautja craftsman would be straining to do. He then further intrigued them when he asked for paints. After he had sculpted and cleaned what turned out to be another hoplite sculpture, he then started to paint it. When he had finished, everyone was impressed by the amount of details and the fine blending of paints.

When asked where he had learned the craft, Alaric simply told them that it was a hobby that some humans do. They would often amass whole armies of figurines and then play games with them.

After dinner, which no didn't have arrogant Yautja interrupting, they had all gone back to Ja'anya's home. Kra'vyx wanted to show Alaric the weapons he had chosen to use for his first hunt.

They were all sat by the fire when Kra'vyx pulled two bladed weapons from their holsters behind his back. Alaric immediately recognized the weapons in question.

He had seen xeno extremists with them before.

"Those are Kataras, Kra'vyx." Alaric explained. "Punching daggers that originated in India."

The Kataras in question were thick dagger-like blades positioned in front of the H-shaped horizontal hand grip with which the fighter holds in their fist. The design which Kra'vyx chose had protective armor over the hands to protect from injury, making them a cross between a weapon and a gauntlet. The blades are reinforced at the point to provide maximum penetration against armor.

"Call them what you want, these are awesome." Kra'vyx said, gripping them in his hands and feeling the weight.

Ja'anya looked at her glaive which she had mounted on her wall.

"I prefer putting distance between myself and the prey." She said. "Especially if they have spines."

"Spines." Alaric said with disgust. "Did you happen to run into a Quillbeast too on Floria VII?"

"Yes and it wasn't pleasant."

Kra'vyx lowered his kataras and looked over at the two. "Quillbeast?" He asked curiously.

"One of the most annoying pests you ever find." Alaric explained. "They look like over sized urchins and they shoot dart-like quills at anything that moves. They'll turn you into a pin cushion with zero warning."

"You sound like you've fought one." Ja'anya pointed out.

"Yeah, three of the bloody things ambushed me during the night once. By the time I killed them, I had so many quills sticking out of me I would've been mistaken for a Quillbeast walking upright. I spent the entire night trying to get them out."

He pointed to different parts of his body.

"I had them in my legs, my arms, my back, and even in my hair. But, there was one in my wrist that I couldn't get out so I decided 'Ah, sod it.' I thought it would come out by itself."

He then gave a slight chuckle.

"Anyway, months went by. And while I was cleaning out a kill, I suddenly felt an itch here." He recounted, pointing to his left shoulder. "So I scratched and, what do you know, I actually pulled the quill out of my shoulder."

Kra'vyx was wide eyed.

"You're joking." He said in disbelief.

Alaric pulled something from a pouch on his belt. It was the quill he was talking about and it was six inches long.

"I actually kept it after all this time." He said. "It was a freaky feeling to end up pulling this thing from my shoulder."

He pointed at all the tiny spiraling barbs.

"These barbs you can see, when they enter anything soft, continuously work their way into the target and the longer you leave them in, the harder they are to remove."

He handed it to Kra'vyx who looked at it with wonder. Ja'anya looked at her holographic clock. It was late and they needed to get up early for tomorrow.

"It's getting late." She pointed. "Kra'vyx, you'd better get going. You and Alaric have a busy day tomorrow."

Kra'vyx looked at the clock and started picking his things up. Alaric helped him sheath his kataras into their scabbards.

"We'll have to see you use them, soon." Alaric said. "I'm sure you'll be a great fighter."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kra'vyx said as he opened the door. "See you tomorrow sister and Alaric, good luck."

Kra'vyx walked out the door and Alaric shut it. He tuned to Ja'anya.

"I suppose I'd better get a few winks." He said.

Ja'anya tilted her head towards the bedroom door. Alaric followed her in as he shut the lights in the living area off. He promptly removed his fatigues and tunic and slid under the covers. He laid on his side as Ja'anya stripped, keeping his gaze away from her. He returned his gaze when he noticed Ja'anya wasn't getting into bed. She just stood there, bare and watching Alaric with a waiting look in her eyes.

"Oh, come on." He said, raising his arm.

Ja'anya slid into his embrace, her back to him as Alaric wrapped his arms around her midsection. Ja'anya started purring, wrapping her arms around his while Alaric sighed.

"I wonder how you'll sleep when I'm out on the first hunt?" He asked.

Ja'anya tilted her head so she could see him.

"I'll find a way to cope, somehow." She purred as she laid her head down and shut her eyes.

Alaric shrugged his shoulders as the light went out and he laid back down.

* * *

><p>The commotion from the spectators in the grand arena was a mixture of interest and speculation. They were all wondering how the first human would go through the clan rites of Lai'Kairis. Most of the vote was canted towards a definite victory, seeing how Alaric was a formidable fighter. Others said that he would not to be able to stand up to his opponent, who had yet to be revealed.<p>

Alaric was in one of the prep rooms used for competitors with Ja'anya in her flowing robes. He was wrapping his bandages around his hands and forearms. Ja'anya was strapping protective padding to his shins over his fatigues. Alaric had tied his hair back as Ja'anya stood up.

"Sounds like the mob is itching for a fight." Alaric pointed out.

"They never thought they would see the day when an ooman would join the clan." Ja'anya said.

Alaric noticed something in her voice, she sounded anxious.

"You sound anxious."

"It's just that the Elders decided to have a more experienced hunter for your trial. And from what I've heard, he's very good."

Alaric held her shoulders.

"Don't worry, I handled worse before." He assured her confidently. "I think when we first met was evidence enough."

He then picked up his harness and opened a pouch. He pulled out a small glass jar, filled with slightly bright blue paint.

"Here." He said, giving her the jar and dropping his harness to the floor.

Ja'anya looked at the jar.

"What is this for?" She asked in confusion.

Alaric grinned as he glanced at his tome, lying on a stool with its pages open at a specific page. It had a layout of a human and on the human's skin, front, sides, and back were patterns for war paint.

"Draw away." He said. "I can't draw all of them on by myself."

Ja'anya looked at the picture, she looked at Alaric standing there, and she started to purr as she got the picture. She unscrewed the jar, dipped her talons in, and proceeded to draw the markings of a slayer on Alaric's chest.

She first drew her talons on his shoulders, drawing three thick, tapering lines on each of them. Then she drew her attention to his chest as she painted the next pattern.

She painted his family rune in a large size so that it covered most of his chest, the top point touching edges of his collarbones and the central line following his sternum. Each chevron was then painted on.

Pulling his hair out of the way, she then drew the next glyph on the top of his back. An archaic glyph of a bird drawn in flowing angular lines. Its head was tilted to Alaric's right and its eyes were ferocious looking.

"What does this bird mean?" She asked as she drew the wings.

"That is Grimnir's trusted falcon." Alaric explained. "Legend tells that his falcon, the Shield-hawk Aegis, acted as his eyes and ears to all that was around him, alerting him of any dangers. In a way, he acted as a guardian to Grimnir. One day, while in battle with the Mongols, a lone archer drew his bow at Grimnir's back and fired. Aegis intercepted the arrow and like the shield, at the cost of his own life, protected Grimnir. Saddened by the loss of his oldest friend, Grimnir tattooed Aegis onto his back, so that the Shield-hawk would always be watching over him."

Alaric went to dip his fingers in for some paint but Ja'anya stayed his hand, moving his hand down to his side. She then got more paint on her fingers and then tenderly started the swirling stripes on his face.

Like swirling flames leaking from his eyes

She finished painting his face and he reached around his neck. He pulled his tags off of his neck, the first time he had in over a year. He held them out to Ja'anya.

"Here, keep this safe for me." He said, handing them to her.

A rapping came from the door. It was time.

Ja'anya screwed the jar shut and put it away. Alaric handed her a rag to wipe her fingers on and she took his tags.

"This is it." Alaric said, checking his bandaged arms.

Ja'anya put her arms on his shoulders.

"Fight strong, Alaric." She said firmly. "For all our sakes."

She walked over to the door and it slid open. The veteran guard outside gestured her to leave and she did, giving Alaric one last look of support. She ran off to her designated seat. The guard walked in, gesturing Alaric to follow him. Alaric cracked his knuckles and followed the guard outside.

Alaric was led down a torch lit corridor as the guard coughed.

"I heard you are a right nice brawler, taking down those four bastards like that." The Guard said.

"Slayer, not brawler." Alaric corrected.

"Whatever you call yourself, you'll need all your skills and wits for this match."

Alaric raised an eyebrow.

"Is my opponent that good?" He asked interestedly.

"Well, I don't know who the Elders have pitted you against." The Guard explained. "But I guarantee whoever they chose will give you a run for your money." He turned his head to Alaric. "That's a relevant ooman saying isn't it?"

"That or my opponent is a real doozy."

"Doozy?"

"Very difficult."

The guard turned his head back forwards. They both arrived at a massive set of stone doors. There were carvings of hunters going through their clan rites, the center of the door depicting the first hunt against the xenomorphs. The Guard pointed to where Alaric must stand. Alaric stood in the center of the doors

"Ooman." The guard ordered. "Stay here until the Elders summon you."

Alaric nodded and crossed his arms as he waited. The Guard then walked behind Alaric and stood there at the ready.

Alaric could hear the murmuring of the crowd behind the stone doors. He did a few stretches as he waited for his cue.

'_Sam.'_He thought fervently. _'It won't be long now until both of you have been avenged.'_

* * *

><p>Zel'tyr sat with her son on the front row, waiting for the clan rite to begin. Kra'vyx had passed his rite with flying colors, thanks to Alaric's tips on pain suppression and using parkour evasive techniques. Zel'tyr was pleased that her son had now earned his right to hunt, but she was still going to reprimand him for the mistake of misjudging his opponent's reach.<p>

Kra'vyx was still nursing a throbbing jaw.

Kal'deris sat with the other Elders on the north edge of the arena. There were twelve ruling Elders on Lai'Kairis, each one overseeing a specific sector of the ship. Each Elder would oversee their sectors as they wished but for major events they would convene.

This particular set of clan rites involving a human was one such event.

Kal'deris and a few of the Elders had already known that Alaric was going to pass with no complications but the other Elders had their doubts. They were the ones who hadn't seen or had refused to see the holo-footage.

Ja'anya moved to her family and sat down in the seat that was reserved for her. Kra'vyx noticed that her fingertips had a pale blue tinge.

"Sister, why are your fingers blue?" He asked curiously.

Ja'anya looked down and she saw that her fingers were stained by the paint. She didn't pay any mind to it. Kra'vyx noticed that she had Alaric's tags with him and he saw the SAS motto.

"Who Dares Wins?" He said. "Why have you got Alaric's tags?"

Ja'anya showed him the tags.

"Alaric asked me to hang on to them." She said. "The ooman phrase means those who take the big risks comes out on top."

Kra'vyx perked up.

"You mean like taking down a Kainde Amedha with just your fists?" He said.

"I think that's one way of explaining it." Ja'anya confirmed.

That was when the Elders stood up and the arena fell silent. The High Elder, a graying Yautja resplendent in his ornamented robes and staff, then spoke to the masses.

"Hunters of Lai'Kairis. We are here today to witness an… intriguing… rite of passage." He called out so that everyone could hear him. "We are here to see the passage of an ooman warrior as he moves from his old life, and in to ours."

He then pulled out something that was presented to him earlier. The preserved head of Sil'cais.

"He has already proven himself worthy of the trial by disposing of Sil'cais the scourged and proving his skill in combat against four of our fellow hunters. Now, he will fight for the right of joining our clan."

He turned to the western gate as he lowered the head.

"Let the warrior called Alaric, step forth!" He commanded in a powerful voice that reverberated throughout the hall.

The stone door grinded open as the crowd watched for the Slayer to emerge. There was silence and then Alaric came walking into view. Yautja started murmuring when they saw Alaric in his war paint. A few of Alaric's previous opponents started moving uncomfortably. Alaric paid no notice as he walked into the center of the arena, in a white sand circle. He raised his head to the Elders, who were perplexed as to why Alaric had been painted up for this.

The High Elder didn't react to this. He had seen warriors in war paint before but why Alaric had chosen this time do so was anyone's guess.

"Ooman, your time of passage has arrived." He said. "Is there anything you wish to say to the council before your opponent is brought forth?"

Alaric only had one thing to say to them. A small warning.

"Elders, you have seen me in action and seen the results, so I ask one thing of you." He said, especially at Kal'deris "If you notice any signs of change in character, more specifically my eyes changing color, stop the match."

Kal'deris was the only one to understand what he meant, having been told about Alaric's threshold. However, he thought it was just Alaric's temper in general and not Alaric's berserker Rage. The other Elders muttered to each other, trying to make out what he meant.

The High Elder then turned to the eastern gate.

"Let his opponent step forth!" He ordered in a thundering tone.

Alaric caught sight of his opponent and his eyes went wide. It was the biggest Yautja he had ever seen. It was a nine foot tall, grey, and black mottled, green eyed male with bulging muscles. He was dressed the same as Alaric with the only difference being that he was wearing a segmented kilt instead of trousers.

In a sense, this hunter was more like a mountain compared to the other Yautja in the arena. They looked like twigs in comparison

The Yautja walked up next to Alaric and looked up at the Elders.

'_Bloody hell!'_ Alaric thought in surprise. _'They've sent out the big guns!'_

"Vyl'kar the vast, you had been chosen to test this ooman." The high Elder briefed the large hunter. "I'm sure you have seen the holo-vid of his actions."

"Yes, Elder." Vyl'kar acknowledged. "I relish the thought of fighting a skilled ooman warrior."

The Elder then addressed both of them.

"Move to your lines and wait for my signal." He ordered

The Elder then turned his attention to the spectators as Alaric and Vyl'kar moved to the ends of the ring.

"The clan rite will proceed." He said. "The victor will be decided when the other has been incapacitated or surrenders through submission."

Alaric watched as his opponent took up the Yautja fighting stance, a vague sumo wrestler stance with the arms out to the side and fingers outstretched. Alaric got into his stance, crouching slightly with his right fist close to his chest and his left hand out. He slowed his breathing as he waited for the signal.

This fight was going to take all of his skill and determination.

Ja'anya watched as Alaric waited, his posture showed that he was ready and willing.

The High Elder then drew from his cloak a ceremonial dagger and then a xenomorph skull was placed in front of him on the stone podium by a guard. The High Elder raised the dagger and, after a short pause that seemed to stretch for eternity, drove the dagger into the skull hard with a bone splintering crack.

Vyl'kar gave off a loud roar and charged Alaric. Alaric sprinted towards his adversary and the fight began.

Alaric slid under while Vyl'kar went stomping over him. Alaric swung his leg round to knock the Yautja off his feet but he was too large. Vyl'kar piled a fist down to Alaric while Alaric rolled out of the way as the fist impacted the ground and flipped to his feet.

The two then exchanged blows with each other. They blocked, punched, and kicked at each other while the Elders watched in silence and the audience around them cheered them on.

Zel'tyr and Ja'anya watched in silence while Kra'vyx joined the others in their cheers.

"Go Alaric!" He cheered.

Alaric delivered one of his roundhouse kicks to the Yautja's chest but it didn't have much effect barring knocking him back a foot or two. This hunter was built like a mountain, and just as solid. And fast too when Alaric felt a jarring kick to his head. He went rolling into the dirt but recovered quickly. He charged back with a flying kick and flipping back from the Yautja's chest from impact.

Vyl'kar was impressed by Alaric's spirit and determination. It seems the Elders weren't joking about this human being a strong fighter. However, he was determined to follow the Elders' orders and win the match.

It was five minutes into the match and both combatants had showed that they were equal. It was here that one of the Elders decided to up the ante.

"Vyl'kar, stop toying with him and fight!" An Elder commanded angrily.

"I'd thought you'd never ask!" Vyl'kar answered with a smile.

Alaric then felt a jarring punch to the face before being grabbed and then thrown onto the ground. He rolled out of the way and countered with a sweeping kick. Vyl'kar dodged it and kicked Alaric in the chest, sending him sliding across the arena.

'_He's so strong!'_ Alaric thought picking himself up and wiping blood from his mouth, _'He's been holding back all this time.'_

He didn't have much time to react as Vyl'kar charged at him with alarming speed. Alaric rolled out of the way and renewed his attack. Seeing how Vyl'kar was stronger and faster then he was; Alaric had to try and out maneuver him.

Throw him off balance.

Alaric got grappled by Vyl'kar and Alaric slipped out, giving Vyl'kar a jab in the gut. Alaric got on top of Vyl'kar and wrapped his left arm around the hunter's neck. It was having some effect as Vyl'kar's chokes told. But then, Vyl'kar laughed and grabbed Alaric's arm and pulled him down, landing on his back

'_Oh shit!'_Alaric thought, having realized that he'd played right into Vyl'kar's hands and he was going to pay for his mistake.

Alaric felt his left arm get caught in a hold and Vyl'kar promptly pulled Alaric's forearm the wrong way. Alaric strained as he felt the pain rush into his head as he felt his forearm pop out of line and he was grabbed roughly at the neck and given a headbutt. They both reeled from that, Vyl'kar having just learned the hard way about the plate in Alaric's head.

A little revenge for that trick.

Alaric got free and put some space between him and his opponent. He saw his arm dangle, twisted and lifeless by his side. He could hear jeering coming from the crowd and even heard a few insults. Blotting out the pain in his mind, Alaric resolved himself to continue the fight, regardless of his injuries.

Ja'anya and her brother saw that he wasn't going to stop the match for anything. He was going to go down fighting.

A Slayer never surrenders.

Alaric was smashed hard into the stone wall, air bursting form his lungs with Vyl'kar talons around his throat and was lifted several feet in the air. He had taken a heavy beating at the hands of this Yautja and Ja'anya and her family could only watch. He had cuts from grabs by taloned hands on his arms and chest with bruises all over his body. Somehow, his bones were holding up through all the punishment.

"To be honest, I'm disappointed." One Elder said. "We've heard so much praise about this human and he can't even fight Vyl'kar at full strength."

Alaric felt his brain getting starved of oxygen as he struggled against this vice on his throat with only one good arm. He tried to kick with his legs but that wasn't having much effect. It was evident that he was going to be choked until he was unconscious or dead. He clenched and opened his eyes frantically as he struggled to get free.

He could feel his strength sapping away, but something else was stirring within.

"This isn't good." Kra'vyx said, pointing. "He's gonna break Alaric's neck at this rate."

Ja'anya watched as she saw Alaric's kicks getting weaker by the second. He may have had incredible endurance in a fight but now it was giving out.

Then Vyl'kar said something that Alaric and Ja'anya didn't want to hear.

"Look everyone!" The Yautja called out, mocking Alaric. "I'm restricting his blood flow so much, his eyes are going red!"

Ja'anya's heart dropped and horror filled its place. Alaric stopped struggling and looked at his reflection on a reflective wall panel. Sure enough, his eyes were slowly turning a glowing crimson.

'_Oh shit!'_He thought. '_Not now!'_

He clenched his eyes closed as he struggled to speak while the Rage was starting to take hold of his mind, his control slowly eroding. His hair started to twitch and form into spikes.

This was one aspect of the Rage that Alaric told Ja'anya about. It was like a self defense mechanism whenever Alaric was in a life threatening situation. The Rage would allow him to survive wounds that would kill an ordinary human and, regrettably, create the urge to eliminate all potential threats.

Vyl'kar noticed that Alaric was suddenly gaining in strength as he found himself trying to keep his hands locked around Alaric's neck. It didn't scare him but it did alert him to the change that was beginning to happen.

"Run!" Alaric coughed.

Vyl'kar loosened his grip. Big mistake!

"What, ooman?" He asked, leaning his face closer to Alaric's.

Alaric then opened his eyes and Vyl'kar was in for the shock of his life. Alaric's eyes flashed opened and two glowing crimson orbs were revealed.

"Run!" Alaric roared in a flanging voice.

His hair snapped into long spikes and his muscles bulged as they increased in size. Before Vyl'kar knew what hit him, he received a kicking shove to the chest, making him lose his grip and sending him skidding backwards on the arena floor. Yautja around the arena gasped in surprise as Alaric landed deftly on his feet and stood there panting heavily as he struggled to regain control of his Rage. He looked down to his dislocated arm and with a single sharp crack, he forced it back into proper position with no sign of pain whatsoever. He held his head and bent over with strained breaths.

A few Yautja in the stands, the ones who had faced Alaric on Floria VII, started to panic and barge their way out of the stands to their fellows' confusion. They were running because they knew from firsthand experience exactly what was going to happen.

Vyl'kar got up, dusting himself off

"Ha! That's much better! Excellent!" He shouted happily, now that he was going to get a real fight. "Show me what the 'Slayer' can do! Show me your full strength!"

Vyl'kar then made the mistake of charging at Alaric. Alaric lost more control when he saw that monolith of a Yautja charging towards him.

"Damn you!" Alaric roared as the Yautja rampaged towards him. "Run!"

In this state, he had to take his foe out fast or risk hurting everyone he came in contact with. Alaric charged at blurring speed needing to finish this quickly. Alaric struck the first blow, jumping and landing his fist into Vyl'kar's head and, to everyone's shock, sent him hurling from Alaric and smacking into the adjacent stone wall. Yautja everywhere gasped as they saw this human punch one of their own and knock him back like a ragdoll.

The Elders watched as Vyl'kar was slowly recovering from his sudden flight and were surprised at Alaric's newfound strength. A few Elders jaws dropped, Kal'deris' among them.

"That I did not expect!" An Elder exclaimed in disbelief.

"He has gone past his threshold." Kal'deris said suddenly looking out to Ja'anya.

Ja'anya had frightened concern in her eyes. He brother was silent in disbelief and Zel'tyr was more curious then scared.

'_So this is how he defeated Sil'cais!'_ Kal'deris thought. _'Very intriguing.'_

Vyl'kar picked himself up and had barely enough time to roll out of the way. Alaric came storming in at high speed, roaring like a wild animal, and punched right into the stone wall, creating a long hairline fracture with a loud crack. Yautja on that side rushed over to see what happened, reacting when they saw the crack that Alaric made. And weirder to them, Alaric looked like he had not suffered any damage from punching a solid stone wall.

Alaric caught his opponent's eyes as Vyl'kar counterattacked with a flurry of fast punches and kicks. Alaric was blocking every single attack with blurring speed and precision. Vyl'kar was disturbed when he found his attacks were suddenly useless. Then Alaric decked Vyl'kar with a punch to the face, grabbed him by the leg, and then swung him into the stone wall. The Yautja nearby flinched when they saw one of their own being easily man handled and slammed into a wall.

Alaric held his spiked head, straining and walking away to the center of the ring from Vyl'kar who was heaving himself up. He then charged at Alaric but Alaric circled in a blur, moving behind Vyl'kar and delivered a pile driving kick to his side. Vyl'kar clutched his side, nursing a bruised organ or two as he saw Alaric shuffling off, holding his head and falling to his knees.

'_Stop the match!'_ Alaric thought desperately. _'Stop the match before I totally lose it!'_

Vyl'kar looked up at the Elders with shock on his face. He was losing his cool as he now saw and realized just what Alaric was.

"You didn't say anything about fighting a berserker!" He shouted at them angrily.

"He's an ooman!" One of the Elders shouted back. "Get back in there and fight him!"

"Ooman berserkers are no different to any other ooman." Another shouted. "They only go crazed in a fight."

Kal'deris looked at Alaric who was muttering in an unknown language in the manner of calming himself.

"That's more than crazed." He pointed out angrily as he was slowly beginning to understand how Alaric had defeated Sil'cais. He also saw Ja'anya pleading with him silently to stop the match. "I think we should halt the match."

This was true as Alaric had now stopped bleeding and his wounds looked like they were starting to heal, something that's not normally possible in such short time.

"No, the clan rites cannot be halted once they start." The High Elder stated. "We all know that." He looked down at Vyl'kar. "Finish the match, Vyl'kar."

Kal'deris saw Ja'anya's desperate and pleading look and solemnly shook his head.

Vyl'kar took his chance to take down Alaric while he was on the ground and it was there that everything would backfire against him horribly.

Alaric had desperately hoped that the fight would have been stopped by now but that was not to be and he lost what little control he had left. The best he could hope for was that it would be over quickly before he did too much damage.

Please stay down Yautja, he prayed as the rage took full hold of him.

Alaric dodged each of Vyl'kar's attacks with blurring speed before delivering a punch to the face and then a roundhouse kick to the chest. Vyl'kar grabbed Alaric by the arm and threw him towards the nearest wall. Alaric recovered in an instant, landing his feet on the wall and then jumping right back at Vyl'kar, landing another punch to the head. Vyl'kar hit the dirt again but got up and chased Alaric around the arena.

The Elders watched as Alaric darted around the arena with Vyl'kar trying in vain to keep up. They were all amazed at this show of speed and strength. Some Elders started saying that this match was getting more interesting.

And _much_more brutal.

Alaric ran onto the wall and surprised everyone when he ran up the wall. Reaching the top and freaking the spectators with his glowing eyes, he flipped back into the arena. Vyl'kar was momentarily hypnotized by watching Alaric arc through the air, his spiked hair trailing behind him in arcs, and he paid for his mistake when Alaric drove his foot into his face.

Vyl'kar shuffled back, holding his face as Alaric came pacing up to him, his teeth bared and snarling. Vyl'kar attacked with a flurry of strikes, strikes which had all missed Alaric. But Vyl'kar had a trick up his sleeve.

Vyl'kar managed to grab Alaric by the head and with a loud roar and stampeding speed, rammed him into the far wall. At first it looked like it just might work in subduing Alaric but it only made the Slayer more enraged. Alaric shook him off in a loud roar, grabbed Vyl'kar by the neck, and smacked him into the wall face first. Alaric then threw him into the center of the ring with Vyl'kar rolling onto his back. Alaric had grazes on his forehead from the wall and they were not bleeding in the slightest.

Vyl'kar got up coughing up blood and he saw Alaric roaring and blurring towards him. He lunged out just in time and grabbed Alaric's hands. That stopped Alaric in his tracks and they both grappled at each other. Vyl'kar had gained the upper hand for the moment as he slowly pushed Alaric back. Then Alaric snarled like an animal and pushed back. Vyl'kar found himself being pushed backwards while every one reacted to this incredible feat of strength.

It was here that Vyl'kar had lost his cool completely.

"This is impossible!" He shouted. "What the fuck are you?"

Alaric growled inhumanly and proved Vyl'kar's thoughts otherwise when he gave both of Vyl'kar's arms a quick twist. Bones could be heard fracturing, followed by his roars of agonized pain as some broken bones suddenly jutted from his arms. His arms twisted and useless, Vyl'kar was open to attack and Alaric did so with brutal efficiency. All the spectators exclaimed in surprise and horror as Alaric grabbed Vyl'kar by the neck, head butted him and then dragged him, semi-conscious by the neck at great speed to the adjacent wall. Everyone thought that Alaric was going to smash him into the wall but Alaric had something else in his Rage clouded mind. He ran up the wall and did an incredible back flip. It was like gravity had no hold over him as he trailed through the air with Vyl'kar in his grasp. Then, arcing at the center of the arena, he slammed Vyl'kar into the dirt with a loud thundering crash.

Ja'anya covered her eyes. She couldn't watch this any more. She was praying desperately to the gods and her father to stop this display of savagery. Kra'vyx flinched as he saw Vyl'kar crumpled into the ground while Zel'tyr was wide eyed the entire time.

Alaric landed and grabbed Vyl'kar by the head before, in an act that made every Yautja flinch, he delivered one final pile-driving knee to the face with a loud blood curdling roar. Vyl'kar was sent reeling back with blood, broken teeth, and tusks as he went arcing through the air. Vyl'kar rolled a few yards before stopping in a crumpled heap.

Vyl'kar didn't move an inch after that. He had been knocked cleanly out and the only movement that he did was unconscious twitching.

Alaric then stomped over, grabbed Vyl'kar roughly and heaved him up and over his head.

Alaric stood there, panting heavily and holding the limp, battered, and bloody body of Vyl'kar above him. Green blood trickled from Vyl'kar's torn flesh and down Alaric's arms before dripping into his hair. Alaric was ready to deliver the final finishing blow.

But, thankfully, that was not to be.

Alaric saw something in the stands that he did not expect and that was the terrified eyes of a child looking at him in mortal fear. It was Vyl'kar's own son and the child's mother who had come to watch his father fight. Alaric stopped snarling as he saw what were tears forming in the child's eyes. It was there that something awoke in Alaric's mind.

A memory that he never wanted to relive again. And it was not about his family. Not about his wife and son.

_Alaric as a child and hiding under a tree, hearing his foster family being slaughtered._

"Sister, look." Kra'vyx said.

Ja'anya uncovered her eyes and saw that Alaric had not yet killed Vyl'kar and was just standing there, holding Vyl'kar high above him.

Alaric looked up at his unconscious opponent. He saw how Vyl'kar wasn't moving and was therefore no longer any kind of threat. Alaric very carefully placed him on the ground before slowly stepping back a few paces.

Even in his unbridled rage, he couldn't bring himself to kill a child's father. He might be a Slayer, but he was not a murderer.

He was not a murderer, and he refused to become one.

He held his head in his hands, reared back and gave out a long echoing pain filled roar before collapsing forwards into a curled heap. His hair went back to normal as it spread around him in a spiked mane and his muscles shrank to normal size.

Ja'anya hopped out of her seat and darted into the arena in the moment Alaric hit the floor. Kra'vyx half followed, half tumbled after her. Kal'deris jumped into the arena to head Ja'anya off. He was more concerned over her safety then her intentions for Alaric

"Ja'anya stay away from him!" He warned desperately.

"Let me pass!" She screamed while pushing Kal'deris out of the way.

"Oh, fuck me!" Kra'vyx blurted as he saw the damage up close.

Several Yautja medics came rushing into the arena to give emergency aid to Vyl'kar. The now leveled Yautja was starting to regain consciousness and was grunting, and groaning in pain.

Alaric on the other hand sounded like he was having some kind of panic attack. His breathing was rapid and ragged and he had his eyes and teeth clenched shut. The nightmare in his mind was taking its effect. He flipped over to his other side.

"Big bro'!" He strained, "Razeal! Leave them alone, you Yautja bastards!"

'_What is he going on about?'_ Ja'anya thought. _'He has a brother? And who is this Razeal?'_

Ja'anya knelt down and put her hands on his shoulders. Alaric opened one eye hesitantly. He saw Ja'anya and Kra'vyx over him. In his now normal but dilated eye, Ja'anya could see that he was desperate to know about Vyl'kar.

"Alaric?" She said, holding a hand on his head.

His temperature was high and he was sweating rapidly. The paint on his body was starting to trickle.

"Is he dead?" He asked. "Is he dead?"

Ja'anya looked up to the medics as they treated the badly wounded hunter with pain medication and splints. The lead medic nodded his head to her as they retracted their stretcher.

"He's alive." Ja'anya confirmed in relief.

The new took a lot of weight off of Alaric's shoulder. The medics then carefully moved Vyl'kar onto the stretcher. Alaric gingerly uncurled as Kra'vyx helped him and sat him up. Ja'anya held him close to her and this worked in calming Alaric from his sudden panic attack. Alaric's breathing was returning to normal and his eyes stopped dilating.

"By the Ancestors, you weren't kidding about having a threshold." Kra'vyx said; looking at the amount of damage inflicted on Vyl'kar.

Alaric looked at Vyl'kar as he was taken out of the arena. He looked up and he saw that Vyl'kar's son and his mother were heading out of the arena.

"I need to get out of here." He said, heaving himself up. "I need to go somewhere calm."

"We should get you home and lay you down." Ja'anya said, reassuringly.

Alaric walked out of the arena, holding his head with Ja'anya and Kra'vyx at his shoulders. Some of the medics who were in the way backed off from Alaric, fearing that he would go berserk again. Kal'deris could only watch as this now calm berserker was taken out of the arena. He looked up to Zel'tyr, who was now going to find her children.

He looked up to the other stunned and speechless Elders.

"I think we have just roused a raging storm from the calm." He said to them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11- Alaric's past.**

Alaric sat on Ja'anya's bed, crossed legged and in deep thought. He was slumped with his hands over his face as he recalled every single detail of the match. The wounds that had inflicted on him were dressed in bandages and healing salves. While he normally couldn't recall what he'd done while in the Rage, save for vague images, he could recall with perfect clarity the terrified look of Vyl'kar's child as he was about to take the life of that child's father. Thank the gods that it stopped him when it did, regardless of the effect it had on his mind.

'_Why didn't the elders stop it when I started showing the signs?'_ He thought. _'I could've ended up killing everyone around me.'_

He lifted his head when he heard the door open and Ja'anya stepped through with a tray of food in her hands. The blue paint on his face was now more smudged into his face and his hands. It made him look like he had one big bruise on his face.

She sat down next to him.

"Are you alright, Alaric?" She asked, concerned about his current state of mind.

He nodded as she laid the tray down on her lap.

"For now, anyway." He said, looking at her. "Are you sure Vyl'kar is going to recover?"

"He will. He won't be able to hunt for a while and he'll have a few scars but he'll live."

'_Thank god for that!'_ Alaric thought in relief.

Alaric sat there while Ja'anya got up and left for the bathroom, returning with a washing cloth and a bowl of cool water. She dampened the cloth and started wiping his face, cleaning off the smudged blue paint on his left cheek.

"I couldn't bring myself to do it, even in Rage." Alaric said. "I will not stoop down to a bad bloods' level."

"I'm glad you didn't." Ja'anya praised earnestly. "I don't know how you stopped but I thank the Ancestors that you did."

She finished wiping his cheek, rinsed her cloth clean and started rubbing his other cheek clean. Alaric, while facing his cheek scrubbed, sighed as he told her why he stopped.

"I saw Vyl'kar's kid in the stands." Alaric admitted.

Ja'anya stopped rubbing his cheek, leaving blue stains under his eye that trickled down his face like tears.

"That's what got your attention?" She asked softly.

Alaric nodded.

"I saw the horrified look in his eyes. The tears and... I... I saw myself in that kid." Alaric said.

Ja'anya lowered her hand.

"Saw yourself?" She asked in confusion.

Alaric nodded again.

"What I almost did to his father was the very thing that happened to me." Alaric told her, disgusted at himself."

He looked up at Ja'anya

"Ja'anya." Alaric said

Ja'anya looked at him. She could see in his eyes that he was about to tell her something that was very personal and painful. And it was unlikely that he would ever be willing to say this again.

"Yes, Alaric?" She asked gently.

Alaric patted the space next to his right. Ja'anya moved the tray off her lap and onto the bed before shuffling closer to him.

"Ja'anya." Alaric started. "You remember when you asked about that marine squad and how I didn't want to talk about it." He took a breath. "Do you know how old I was when I was orphaned again and begun my training in the marines?"

"Thirteen?" Ja'anya guessed.

Alaric shook his head. Ja'anya thought for a second.

"Ten?"

Alaric shook his head again and told her.

"Seven." Alaric revealed. "I was seven when they were all killed and then I was left to die."

Ja'anya was shocked at this fact of Alaric's life.

"Seven?" She exclaimed. "That's like sending a newborn pup to into a hive!"

"I didn't have a choice in the matter. Even less when I had to survive, alone, for several weeks."

He scratched his head.

"And that was the first time I ever saw your race."

* * *

><p><em>On a forest planet, in the north of the human controlled section of the galaxy, a squad of marines approached the edge of one of the many dark and ominous forests. The sun was setting, casting everything in a golden glow and the shadows in the forest were ever growing.<em>

_A perfect place for a training exercise for a bunch of tough hombres of the corps._

_There were six marines in full combat gear with their weapons and backpacks. And among them, a seventh member in a way, was a small boy._

_A boy with short spiked black hair, deep red eyes and an ornate axe nearly as large as he was which he used as a walking stick._

_He was dressed in the same manner with his own little uniform, flak vest and a backpack. The name 'Alaric' was stenciled on the front of his bag._

_The marines arrived at the edge of the trees, spreading out and forming a perimeter with their weapons. The lead marine examined the area, checking the lay of the land and then raised a fist up._

_"Okay, squad." He called out. "We'll camp here for the night." He then gestured to specific marines. "Mills, get a fire going. Hendrix, set up the motion tracker. The rest of you get comfy, this is gonna be a long night."_

_"Hey L.T.." A marine asked. "What's the objective for this exercise?"_

_"In the morning, we're going to navigate through that forest and do so in the quickest time possible." The lieutenant explained_

_Alaric walked over to a large oak that was nearest to him and sat down at the base. He pulled off his backpack and started rummaging around for something inside. He pulled out a ration bar and eagerly opened it._

_All the marines went about their business. Sgt Hendrix, the squad's smartgunner, deployed the motion tracker unit on the grassy ground and activated it. It gave out blips as it tracked everyone's movements. When an enemy reached its range, it would give out its distinctive bleeps._

_Pvt. Mills, the youngest squad member, walked up to Alaric with his marine issue shotgun on his shoulder. Alaric was biting into his bar and he looked up._

_"Hey, Little Bro'." He said with a grin. "Enjoying this trip?"_

_Alaric nodded as he watched the others slip their packs off and started spreading out sleeping mats. Two marines brought out a large camouflaged tarpaulin and went about hammering the pegs into the ground. Another was busy making a ring of stones for a fire._

_"Yeah, Big Bro'" He said back. "This is great."_

_"Yeah, you always liked training exercises."_

_Mills pointed at Alaric's axe._

_"You like your gift?" The marine asked._

_"Yes, it's the best present I ever had." Alaric said. "I wish I knew my dad, though."_

_Mills knelt down to his level._

_"Don't worry." He assured Alaric. "I'm sure he's looking down on us at this moment."_

_He stood back up._

_"Anyway, I gotta go get some firewood. Wanna help?" Mills asked._

_Alaric nodded and slipped his pack on his back. He then picked up his axe and they both went over to their commanding officer, who was busy issuing orders._

_They walked past their medic, Cpl Vidette, as she was busy checking her medical kit. She gave her greetings to Alaric as they passed. Another marine, their resident spiritual aide Pvt. Mikhail, was busy reciting a litany while cleaning the nozzle of his flamethrower. And busy talking to their leader was Pvt. Lucien, who was twiddling one of his many knives in his hands as he received orders to scout the perimeter. Lucian acknowledged his orders and moved off, juggling his knife in his hand._

_Mills walked up to his C.O._

_"L.T. I have something to ask." He said._

_The lieutenant turned to him and he saw Alaric by the marine's side._

_"Alaric, I see you haven't left your father's axe back on ship." He said, patting the boy on the shoulder. "And I can just tell it will be of great use in your hands."_

_Alaric smiled._

_"Thanks, Razeal." He answered happily. "Lucien showed me how to use it."_

_Mills spoke up._

_"Alaric wants to come and get wood with me." Mills said. "Is that alright, L.T.?"_

_Razeal thought about that for a second._

_"I don't see why not." He said. "It'll be good to put Darius' axes back to use."_

_Razeal knelt down to Alaric's level._

_"Stay with Mills, Alaric." He told the child before standing back up. "Mills, it's getting dark. Don't stay in the woods too long."_

_"No sweat, L.T." Mills assured his superior. "We got our lights and my N.V. Visor should it get dark."_

_Razeal patted Alaric on the head and bid them farewell. Mills gestured Alaric to follow him and they both went into the forest while the squad set up camp._

* * *

><p>"You sound very fond of this Razeal." Ja'anya said, getting off the bed.<p>

"Yes." Alaric answered, rubbing the grazes on his forehead. "Razeal was my father's squad mate and the closest thing to a father figure that I had. He and my father were in the squad together since basic training."

Ja'anya smiled as she walked out and into the bathroom to dispose of the cloth and blue stained bowl.

"Like my father and Kal'deris." She compared.

Alaric gave a short chuckle.

"That's one way of putting it." He said. "Mills, the rookie of the squad, was like the brother I never had. Just like Kra'vyx."

Ja'anya returned and sat back down. She saw Alaric pull out the photo of the squad and he pointed to each of the marines, telling her their names. He pointed to the smartgunner.

"Hendrix was like the crazy uncle." Alaric said. "He was a bit of a gun nut and he liked seeing something explode spectacularly. But he was a good man." He pointed at the female marine with the red cross painted on her left pauldron. "Vidette was the mother figure, she was always concerned about my health and would make sure I was fully prepared for anything that could happen."

Ja'anya looked and smiled.

"That's what a mother does." She said with a smile. "Mother's mentoring to Kra'vyx is evidence of that."

"Kind of" Alaric said, chuckling. "Only that she didn't slap me over the head for each slightest mistake."

Alaric pointed to the marine with the flamer and the Christian cross around his neck.

"Mikael was like a wise man the way he would talk about things. I never really paid much attention but I did learn some things, inspiring things, from him."

Alaric stopped for a second while he remembered the one lesson he had felt more strongly for then the others.

"He said to me once, 'Remember, those who command you, be they kings or men of power, your soul is in your keeping alone. When you stand before your gods to be judged, you cannot say 'But I was told by others to do thus' or 'That ideal was not convenient at the time.' That will not suffice."

"What does that mean?" Ja'anya asked.

"I think what he meant is that every person is responsible for their own destiny. Others may suggest different paths but the ultimate decision is yours alone."

He then scoffed.

"Too bad that didn't really apply in human history. In most cases if you have even the slightest difference in ideals or opinions, you would be prosecuted or even executed."

He pointed lastly to the marine who had several knives gripped in his fingers.

"Finally, this is Lucian." Alaric finished. "He was the one who instructed me in using my father's axes. As you can see from the numbers of knives on him, he was a blade expert."

Ja'anya counted the number of knives she could see. She counted ten of them.

"He must be quite the knife fighter." Ja'anya said.

"And a good aim with them too. I saw him slice a cigar in half while Mills was smoking it. Lucien hated smoking with a passion."

Alaric put the photo back in his pouch.

"What happened next?" Ja'anya asked.

"Well," Alaric continued. "we continued trekking through the forest, picking up various fuel bits as we went..."

* * *

><p><em>Alaric and Mills walked through the dense undergrowth, gathering up twigs and dried moss for kindling. They both looked out for some good wood that would keep burning throughout the night. And after fifteen minutes of wandering into the woods, they came across a large oak.<em>

_Mills walked up and gave the trunk a few taps with his shotgun. The trunk had a nice solid sound, like it was in its prime. He then looked up at the over hanging branches. He saw a nice thick one above him. That would make nice firewood._

_"Hey, Little Bro'?" He said._

_Alaric walked up with a bundle of twigs in one arm and his axe in the other. Mills pointed up at the branch._

_"Think you can climb up that tree and cut that branch off?" Mills asked._

_Alaric looked up at the branch and he nodded._

_"Yeah, I wanna try out my dad's axe!" Alaric enthusiastically said._

_Alaric dropped the bundle he was carrying, unclipped his backpack, holstered his axe in its place in a specially made loop and ran up to the tree. He jumped, grabbed on an overhanging branch before deftly climbing up while Mills took a few steps back and watched. Alaric was very nimble as he moved from branch to branch, despite having an axe that was almost as big as he was._

'_Look at him move.' Mills thought proudly. 'No wonder he's first in Phys Ed.'_

_Alaric quickly climbed over to the target branch and stood on it near the trunk of the oak._

_Alaric hefted his axe, got the feel of it, examined the correct area and he brought it hard into the branch. The axe sliced cleanly through and the branch, which turned out to be closer then they thought, came crashing down with Mills diving out of the way. The branch crashed into the ground with a loud crack of splintering wood._

_Mills spat some leaves out of his mouth and looked up at Alaric who was sitting up in the tree with a grin on his face._

_"You could have said 'timber!' Little Bro'." Mills said, picking himself up off of the ground._

_"If I did that then I wouldn't see you dive into the dirt." Alaric chirped as he started climbing back down._

_Mills looked at the fallen branch and felt the cut. It was perfectly smooth._

_"Damn, I keep forgetting how sharp they are." Mills said as he dusted himself off._

_Alaric landed next to him._

_"How's that?" He asked._

_Mills grinned._

_"Alaric, you're just like your father." He said, "Come on, let's cut this up."_

_Alaric soon hacked away at the branch, getting the hang of his father's axe quickly. In no time at all, they had a nice cut pile of logs and they went about gathering what they could carry._

_Alaric followed Mills as they trekked back to camp, carrying a large bundle of twigs and dried moss. Mills was carrying several logs of oak branch, staggering slightly under the weight. They were lagging behind as the sun was nearly down and it was getting too dark to see far. Luckily, their shoulder lamps came in use._

_They came near to the forest edge where Alaric tripped over an upturned root he missed from his lamp's gaze. He fell flat into the leaf covered ground and bounced._

_"You okay, Little Bro'?" Mills asked while stopping and watching Alaric pick himself up._

_Alaric had a mouthful of leaves which he promptly spat out and that was when he saw glowing light._

_The light caused by fire._

_"Did they make a fire already?" Alaric asked, annoyed and moving on towards camp._

_Mills stopped suddenly and held a hand down, stopping Alaric from moving. An explosion, a pulse rifle grenade detonating, was heard, the sound ripping through the forest._

_"That's not a campfire, Alaric!" Mills said, "We're under attack!"_

_He dropped the logs and brought his shotgun up. He checked the magazine and then cocked it. He looked down to Alaric._

_"Stay close and turn your lamp off." He told Alaric in a firm tone but quiet voice._

_Alaric switched his lamp off as Mills did the same. Mills brought his visor down and moved cautiously forward, trying not to make noise._

_They didn't get far before they saw a dark figure running towards them. Mills raised his shotgun but lowered it quickly when he found that it was L.T. Razeal. The lieutenant stopped in front of them, changing his pulse rifle's magazine._

_"Mills, Alaric, thank god you two are alright." Razeal said, out of breath._

_"What's happening, L.T.?" Mills asked. Then he noticed two jagged slash cuts on Razeal's chest plate. "What the hell did that!"_

_"Predators are attacking the camp."_

_"Predators?"_

_Alaric was confused by the name._

_"Predators?" He asked._

_"Alien hunters." Razeal told him before looking back at Mills. "Five of them as far as we know. We're holding but it's getting seriously FUBAR. Why they didn't kill us right away, I don't know."_

_An explosion of blue light erupted from the camp sight and several curses where heard along with Mikhail shouting some religious verses. Razeal looked down to Alaric who was agitated by the yelling._

_"We need to get you to a safe place, Alaric." He said._

_He looked around and he saw a large oak with a hollow space underneath it. It was big enough to hold a child and was fairly deep down. It will have to do at this time._

_"Come on, Alaric." He ordered, grabbing Alaric's hand. "Over here."_

_Razeal and Mills led Alaric to the tree and pointed to the hollow. They lowered Alaric into the hollow, using the moss and twigs to cover up the most of the hole to form a bit of quick camouflage. The two marines hoped that it would work as they knelt down. They could barely see Alaric in this hollow, only his glittering eyes could be seen._

_"Alaric, listen carefully." Razeal explained. "No matter what happens, do not leave this space."_

_"But..." Alaric tried to protest._

_"Alaric, don't argue with this. Leave these hunters to us. You'll only get in the way"._

_Alaric looked at Mills._

_"Big bro'?" He said, holding back tears._

_"Alaric, we all promised your dad to keep you and your mom safe." Mills said, "We failed her and we do not intend to fail with you."_

_"For your father's sake, stay here and stay down." Razeal urged as he reached for something in his pack. "Here, take this and stay under it."_

_Alaric took what was given to him, a rolled sheet of some canvas-like material, nodded and crouched down. He pulled the sheet over his head._

_"There's a good boy." Razeal praised. "Remember, stay in this hollow, no matter what."_

_Razeal and Mills stood back up and readied their weapons. Razeal cocked his pulse rifle's grenade launcher._

_"Ready, Mills?" Razeal asked_

_Mills nodded, and raised his shotgun._

_"Let's rock, L.T." He said._

_They then bolted back into the fray while Alaric could only watch. He ducked down, pulling the sheet over him fully and reached into his bag. He pulled out a com-bead, hooked it on his ear and switched it to the squad frequency, as he set it to listen only. He also brought out a small flat screen monitor and switched it on to Razeal's helmet cam with the sound muted._

_What Alaric saw was something out of a nightmare that no child should ever see._

_Razeal and Mills burst through the bushes, firing their weapons. They were in time to see Mikhail being thrown several yards to their left, his flamethrower's emissions marking his trajectory. While the preacher heaved himself up, Razeal and Mills picked their targets and attacked._

_Alaric watched the battle rage on his monitor and he saw that one of the marines was dead already. It was Lucian, face down in the dirt with several spear tips lodged in his back. His blood was pooling around him. But it looked like he did some damage as one Yautja pulled a knife from his leg and another from his side._

_Hendrix fired his smartgun in one long volley, shell casings flying in a hailstorm of brass. The flames around the campsite helped to reveal the predators' locations. They appeared like ghosts and sparks erupted from them as their armor absorbed the impacting rounds. Hendrix cursed loudly as he saw the rounds inflict no damage._

_He flinched as his smartgun suddenly exploded in a blue flash and then he felt a fist impact his face. He was then restrained by a hunter that de-cloaked behind him._

_Mikhail fired his flamethrower at the Yautja going after Vidette. The flames barely had any effect and the hunter turned to the preacher._

_"Come and get me, demon!" He shouted, aiming his weapon again. "Have a little cleansing flame!"_

_Then something burst from his chest in a shower of gore. It was a long spear, wielded by a hunter who had sneaked up from behind him. He was then hoisted roughly into the air, brood streaming from his wound and mouth and was then set into the ground. He struggled to breath from this sudden attack, aiming his flamer desperately around, intent on burning whoever had impaled him. His flamethrower then exploded from a plasma bolt and he was doused in flames. He yelled and thrashed, trying to put out the flames but to no avail as he slowly burned at the stake._

_His arms fell limply down and he uttered his last words._

"_Deus, servo Timor ex diabolus"- God, protect Alaric from the demons._

_Mills gave out a yell of pain as he felt a cleft blade projectile impact his left bicep and nailed him to the tree he was crouching next to. His shotgun fell out of his reach and a Yautja uncloaked and held him at spear point. Vidette ran to his aid, only to get her legs pulled form under her as she got caught in a trip line. She flipped over and fired her pulse rifle catching her assailant in the shoulder in a shower of sparks. The Yautja tore the gun from her hand, threw it away and stomped on her leg. She screamed in pain as she heard and felt her bones snap._

_Razeal was blindsided by one hunter and he found himself face down in the dirt and his arms restrained behind his back. He struggled hard against his captor's grasp. His efforts were answered with a jarring punch to the head. Razeal was dazed momentarily, long enough for his assailant to get a firm grip on him._

_The surviving marines were formed into a line, next to Mills nailed to his tree. Each had a Yautja hunter restraining them. The Yautja forced them on their knees for some reason. Hendrix was still resisting so his captor gave him a smack over the head and forced him into the ground face first. Vidette was trying to stem the bleeding in her fractured leg. Razeal was not making any effort to fight any more, for what reason is unknown. Perhaps he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment._

_The captors then forcibly raised their heads and they saw a sixth predator de-cloak. This one had more ornate armor then the others, skulls of varying species were fixed to him. A striking feature was the mask, which had raised horn-like spines on the top in the same way that a crown would be. No doubt, he was the lead hunter. He walked to them with a posture that reeked with superiority._

_The leader looked at them with a manner that showed he was secretly offended by their presence._

_"Greetings, Oomans." It spoke, electronically through its mask. "I trust you ma-rines are comfortable."_

_"I'd like to see you in this position and call that comfy!" Hendrix mumbled through the earth._

_The leader coughed at that remark and resumed._

_"Do you oomans have any clue as to why I am here?" He asked._

_Mills tried to go for a little verbal warfare._

_"I'm guessing your mother got drunk one night and had it off with the nearest janitor, resulting in you!" Mills called out._

_The squad snickered at that while the leader turned to him and with a flick of the wrist, Mills found his forearm was now impaled on a spear tip. He yelped in pain while the leader snorted mockingly._

_"As I was saying, do you have any clue as to why I am here?" He asked again._

_The marines didn't answer._

_"Let me jog your memories." the Yautja said, walking up the line. "You have in your care, a child. A special kind of child, a boy with red eyes."_

_The reaction was immediate. The marines struggled against their captors and the leader chuckled at their attempts._

_"I thought that would get your attention." He snickered before looking over at Mikhail's flame encroached corpse. "Well, nearly all of you."_

_He turned and walked over to Mills who was watching with contempt. The Yautja Leader towered over him._

_"You are the one the boy calls 'brother'." He said_

_Mills stared defiantly and his mouth went off again._

_"And you're the one I call a 'Sadistic fuck'." Mills spat back._

_The lead Yautja retracted his combi-stick and swung it casually in his hand._

_"Now, you can probably guess what's going to happen if you don't cooperate." The Leader explained. "So, I suggest you tell me where the boy is."_

_Mills gave the Yautja a glare._

_"If you think I'm gonna let my little bro' get hurt by you." He said, "You can fuck off and die!"_

_The Leader cocked his head and flicked his stave in his hand._

_"'Fuck off' maybe." He contemplated. "but die..."._

_He then rammed the stave right into Mills. The stave tore right through him, shattering bone and tearing flesh as the weapon tore right through his heart and penetrated the tree, bursting through the inner wall in a red gush. Mills chocked and gasped as he felt his life tear from him and blood gushing out of his chest. With a final retch and a gag, Mills died, his head loping down._

_Alaric watched in horror from his monitor screen as his brother was killed in front of the squad._

_"I have no intention of doing so." The Leader finished._

_Hendrix took his chance. He gave a hard elbow to his attackers crotch. And amazingly it worked as the captor fell backwards, holding his groin and grunting in pain. The universal weak spot of any male._

_Hendrix drew his knife from its shoulder holster and charged at The Leader. He swung his knife, missing the Yautja by an inch and he was grabbed by the neck. His knife hand was then twisted hard until he dropped his knife and then he was hoisted up._

_The others expected him to be executed for that, but the Yautja had other plans._

_"This one is fiery." The Leader said, with a hint of happy surprise. "Have him put into the arena with the others."_

_He then threw Hendrix back into line and the marine was forcibly shoved hard into the ground and restrained by his captor who recovered from the 'personal' attack. The leader then walked over to Vidette. He grabbed her around the neck and heaved her up as his subordinate stepped back._

_"I take it you are the mother figure to the boy." The Leader said._

_Vidette gave no answer. The Yautja scoffed_

_"I would imagine that motherly bond would prevent you from letting the child get hurt." The Leader said._

_"And I guess that bond didn't stop you slitting your mother's throat?" She spat back._

_The Leader ignored her as he picked her up by the neck and sadistically started twisting her fractured leg with her free hand. She stifled the screams as best as she could while the others could only watch in horror._

_"Now, putting my mother aside." He said, giving her leg a final shattering twist. "Where is the child?"_

_Vidette now had tears of pain trickling her face. Yet she had remained resolute against this torture._

_"Tell me and you and your ma-rines shall be spared." He then offered._

_Vidette shook her head._

_"You'll just kill us anyway." She spat._

_There was a pause and then a ghostly chuckle escaped from the Yautja's mask._

_"Too true." The leader said, cocking his head._

_The leader then, with one flick of his wrist, snapped her neck like a twig. He then threw her lifeless body over his shoulder like yesterday's trash. She landed in a limp heap._

_Razeal took his chance. Throughout the interrogation, he had been reaching for his desert eagle sidearm located on the back of his hip. So far, they didn't notice._

_He gripped his pistol tightly, took a deep breath and rammed the barrel under the jaw of his captor and squeezed the trigger. The top of the Yautja's head erupted like a green volcano and he was hurled backwards by the force of the high caliber bullet, his grip on Razeal gone._

_Razeal was free, for the moment._

_He fired at the closest hunter next to him, scoring a head shot and sending the Yautja reeling back from the impact as he retreated back into the trees. The mask had annoyingly caught the bullet and stopped it in its tracks. The hunters drew their weapons and aimed their plasma casters. The triangular dots appeared around Razeal._

_"Get out of here, Razeal!" Hendrix yelled. "Get him away!"_

_Razeal dashed into the woods, a plasma bolt impacting on the tree next to him. The hunters moved to intercept but The Leader growled at them commandingly. It looked as if their leader wanted to finish this himself. Maybe this human would lead him to the boy. And he could kill two birds with one stone._

_The Leader moved into the forest, his wristblades extending._

_Razeal ran past the trees and smashing through bushes to the area where he'd hidden Alaric but he didn't go to get Alaric. Not that he had much of a chance as the Yautja leader had caught up with him with surprising speed. Razeal fired a few shots at the Yautja Leader and he missed. He ducked under the wristblades that were going for his neck._

_Alaric looked out of the hollow and saw Razeal crash through a bush and the predator smashed through after him._

_Razeal fired his pistol again and a flash of metal whizzed through the air, followed by crimson blood and then his left forearm. He had no time to react to his loss of a limb as he was grabbed by the neck and rammed hard into a tree and then hoisted several feet off the ground. Razeal then drove his pistol under the Yautja's head and saw a horrible sight. His pistol's slide was open. There were no more rounds left and he couldn't reload it_

_The Leader swatted the weapon from his head and moved his head closer to Razeal's._

_"I underestimated you." He said. "It's true that oomans are unpredictable, but it makes no difference. They are all weak and die in the end."_

_Razeal felt his throat constricting as the Yautja started chocking him._

_"I won't ask again." He warned. "Where... is... the boy?"_

_Razeal stared defiantly at his soon to be executioner. He had no fear, not against cowards who would gleefully kill children. He just spat blood onto the Yautja's visor._

_"I promised his father not to let anything happen to him." Razeal choked. "I'd rather die then let you do anything to him, coward!"_

_The Yautja cocked his head, like he was taken back by that sincere condemnation. Then his plasma caster on his right shoulder aimed for Razeal's chest. The three dots moved into position._

_"So be it!" The predator roared._

_A blinding flash lit up the forest and Alaric ducked down back into the hollow, covering his ears as it filled with light. When he rose back up, his mouth dropped open in shock. Razeal's head limply hung down and his chest was blown clean through with a plasma bolt that left a large hole in his chest cavity. The edges of his armor glowed hot, his insides smoked from the heat and blood covered the facing tree trunk in an arc and trickled down his body._

_Alaric wanted to scream at that moment but he held his breath with a hand over his mouth and he ducked lower._

_The leader scoffed and threw Razeal to the ground, his body bouncing in the leaf covered ground. He looked around the forest, searching for Alaric. Alaric gripped the sheet he was wrapped in tightly, tears were starting to form in his eyes but he held strong. The Yautja moved closer to his hiding place. Alaric ducked down as low as he could as he heard the treading of taloned feet. He could see the Yautja standing there, right outside the hollow. He didn't dare make a move or even breath. After what seemed like the longest minute of his life, the Yautja turned and walked back, muttering in his native tongue while wiping his mask clean with leaves and signaling to his hunters._

_As soon as the Yautja was out of sight, Alaric looked down at his monitor and switched it to Hendrix's helmet-cam. He saw The Leader emerge from the trees and spoke in his own language to his hunters. The Leader's hunters picked up their dead comrade and started hauling a still kicking Hendrix with them._

_Alaric switched to Hendrix's frequency to hear what was going on. He could hear Hendrix still resisting against his captors. They were moving into the grassy plains and Alaric saw their ship uncloak. Those aliens had been waiting for them all along. They attacked the squad first to eliminate any potential protection they would have given Alaric._

_A side hatch opened and a ramp projected down. The Yautja marched upwards._

_"It seems the interrogations failed miserably." The leader muttered in English still. "I'm surprised that they would face death for one miserable child."_

_He turned to Hendrix and cocked his head._

_"At least I got one consolation prize from this."_

_A pause filled the space with only Hendrix straining in the background. The Leader cocked his head at Hendrix._

_"Let's do this the traditional and more fun way. Release the hounds."_

_"You fucking sadistic animal!" Hendrix shouted._

_The leader raised a fist and then a blow was heard landing, Hendrix's helmet cam was destroyed from the blow, filling the monitor with static and Hendrix was silenced._

_"We'll return within the next moon cycle and see what the hounds have left us." The Leader ordered to his subordinates. "I'm going to have much entertainment watching you fight for your life." The Leader said to Hendrix as the com link broke down._

_Alaric could hear the hatchway seal shut as the ship revved its engines. It could then be heard from where he was hiding as a roar of energy erupted, briefly illuminating the forest and then there was silence and darkness. He stayed in the hollow, too frightened to venture out._

* * *

><p>Alaric rubbed his eyes as he recalled that painful day. Ja'anya was silent as she heard the tragic story of his childhood. How Alaric could recall every detail was astonishing and yet it was a burden.<p>

His photographic memory was both a gift and a curse.

"I stayed in that hollow for God knows how long." Alaric said, lowering his hand. "I was too scared to even move. It was nightfall before I dared heave myself out of that hollow."

* * *

><p><em>It was nightfall by the time Alaric heaved himself out of the hollow, pushing the stick and moss barrier away. Alaric switched his lamp on and he shuffled over to Razeal's still smoking body. His empty pistol was a few inches from his hand. Alaric knelt next to the dead marine, pulled the sheet off himself and looked at it. He found a label stenciled into the lining<em>

_'MKVIII Thermal Insulation Sheet, Stealth Issue.'_

_Alaric remembered before being told that these hunters track their prey by sensing body heat. Razeal had given him the immunity from the Yautja's preying eyes. Alaric looked at Razeal's face, defiance still in his dead eyes._

_"Thank you...Razeal." Alaric croaked with tears in his eyes, lifting the visor up and shutting Razeal's eyes._

_He got up walked into the open, leaving Razeal's body for now, and he saw the devastation first hand. Mills was impaled on the tree, which was now using his blood as fertilizer. Vidette lay in a broken heap. Mikhail's charred body was still impaled on its stake and Lucien's pin cushion corpse lay where he died. Fires burned all around him, littering the campsite in glowing flames._

_Alaric saw the only family he had ever known strewn around him like so much refuse. They were all dead because of him. They had died protecting him._

_He heard low growling around him and in the fire's light emerged a pack of predator hounds, seven strong surrounding him. He looked around and saw the hounds reaching ever closer, their razor sharp mandibles and teeth reflecting the fires' light. Their trainer uncloaked, walking closer to Alaric. And he had his wristblades extended. And even though Alaric was outnumbered and had no chance of surviving, he felt only one thing… but it wasn't fear._

_Anger._

_Rage._

_Alaric felt something stir in him. It was like liquid fire in his blood. He had watched helplessly on the monitor as the only family he had, the only links to the parent he would never know, were killed while he was hiding under a tree. He watched Razeal, the only man he ever would call Father, die protecting him._

_He wasn't going to let their deaths be for nothing._

_He threw his head back and gave out a long loud echoing roar. This roar was enough to make the hounds back off in surprise. His eyes then flashed into a glowing red and his hair rose into sharp spikes. He grabbed his father's axe and he charged into the first of many fights in his life._

_That was the first time the Rage, the strength of his ancestors, came forth._

_The hounds lunged at Alaric and in rapid fluid succession, Alaric had cut down every last one. The hounds, despite their ferocity and greater numbers, were no match for the Rage induced boy. Alaric moved like he was possessed, the hounds never laid a claw on him. His axe sliced through their tough hides and solid muscles like butter._

_The trainer only stood there, not moving. That was until Alaric set his crimson gaze on him. And trainer stumbled backwards, turned tail and ran, hoping to lose Alaric in the trees. Alaric swung his axe hard and threw it at the fleeing hunter. There was whistling metal as it sliced powerfully through the air, the slicing of flesh and bone, followed by a thunk as it slammed home into a tree._

_And the trainer limply hung from the tree, nailed fast by Alaric's axe in his back._

_Alaric gave out a long loud roar to the trees, loud enough to make the night time animals flutter and scamper away._

_When Alaric calmed down enough he saw that he, a seven year old boy, had decimated the hounds. There were bodies and pieces of bodies everywhere. His axe and his clothes were dripping in glowing green blood. His hair fell back down as he collapsed on his back with a light thud._

_He laid there, tired and exhausted from his first fight as his eyes reverted to their normal state._

_After what felt like a hours, he heaved himself up. He saw Mills' impaled body on the tree. He staggered over before grabbing the stave and with some struggling, managed to pry it loose. He pulled the weapon out and chucked it away. Mills went lolling to the side and Alaric caught him before laying him gently down._

_He then saw that Mikael's charred corpse had slid all the way down the stake and was now smoldering. Using the thermal sheet to protect his hands, Alaric pulled the stave out of the dead preacher._

_Alaric now had to do something that would stay in his mind for the rest of his life._

_Alaric dug all of the graves by hand, using what he could improvise with salvaged lamp packs and the glowing flames as his only light source. He found surprising strength when he dragged the bodies, wrapped in their ponchos, into their graves. He fought back tears of grief as he buried them. He fashioned crosses out of sticks and planted them at the heads of the graves. He made one for Hendrix too, despite the fact that there was no body to receive it. Using thick pieces of tree bark, he carved their names onto them and placed them on the respective graves._

_He knelt in front of them and reached into his pack. He pulled out an old leather bound tome and flicked the pages. Then, in the language of his ancestors, he performed last rites._

_Sitting in front of a small fire at the base of the trees, wrapped in the thermal sheet, Alaric sat munching on a ration bar with his axe on his lap. He had cleaned himself as best he could and the dead hounds with their trainer were piled in a heap a few meters away. The predators did a thorough job in scorching the earth. Like they were wiping out all evidence that they ever set foot on this world. He didn't have much supplies, only what he had in his pack, because the supplies the marines brought with them were nearly all destroyed by the fires. But he was determined not to let the lessons the squad taught him go to waste._

_Alaric looked at the graves of the marines before looking up into the star filled sky. He saw the stars high in the heavens. There was only one thing, more then anything else he wanted to find among those stars._

_And it made tears well in his eyes._

_"Dad, where are you?" Alaric said._

* * *

><p>"It was two weeks before a search team arrived to find out why we never checked in." Alaric said. "They found me on the last morning huddled up against Razeal's grave. The marines were surprised when they saw the corpse pile I had erected. I was a bit hesitant in letting them near me but they reassured me enough to get close."<p>

Alaric scratched his head.

"When I was being checked over, my survival for the last seven days and Razeal and the others were being exhumed, I made up my mind right there. I said that I wanted to join the marines. Despite objections from the civilian sections about the welfare of a child in military hands, the marine corps took custody of me because that was the only life I knew. Like the Spartans of the ancient world, I now considered myself a soldier in training.

"And that was the end of my short lived childhood."

Ja'anya was speechless. She had just heard the most painful story she had ever listened to. And one that should never have happened to someone like Alaric. It made her father's loss look insignificant in comparison.

While she and Kra'vyx had their mother Zel'tyr and Kal'deris, Alaric had no one.

"I…"Ja'anya said, trying to speak. "I had no idea."

"You wouldn't." Alaric said, looking down at his feet. "I have never told anyone about that. Not even my wife. Your race was the reason I became a marine because I didn't want anyone to have to go through that like I did. And that was the reason for the distrust I held against you that first day."

"If anyone had that happen to them, they would feel distrustful. Why would those hunters do that?"

"I don't know. They seemed intent on killing me for some reason. I just don't know why. The corps only knew that this was beyond a normal hunter's style."

Ja'anya took a breath. She felt she had intruded on Alaric's peace long enough. She felt that Alaric needed some time to be alone.

"I'm sure you'll want some time alone." She said, gathering up her things on the tray.

She got up and walked out to the door.

"Ja'anya." Alaric said.

She turned back to Alaric.

"Yes, Alaric." Ja'anya asked.

Alaric took a breath as he prepared himself to say something that he had trouble figuring out how to say since the day they first met. Something that he very rarely said to anyone. Ja'anya placed the tray on the ground and walked back over to Alaric, sitting back down.

"My military upbringing and troubled past meant I was never really personal with other people." He said, choosing his words carefully. "I never opened myself to them because I didn't want to go through losing them. I just kept to myself and my training. I had comrades in arms but I thought of them as people I fight with and never got close with them if it can be helped. But... I guess what I'm saying is... well... you're the first real friend I've ever had and I really appreciate the talks that we have." He lowered his head. "Thank you, Ja'anya... for everything..."

Ja'anya placed her hand on Alaric's cheek and he went silent. She then raised his head so that he faced her. Her violet eyes met with his ruby eyes. She saw in his eyes that it was hurting him talking about his past while he saw in her eyes comfort and someone who would be there for him. Then by some cue, they slowly moved their heads forwards, shutting their eyes and their foreheads touched.

"And thank you, Alaric." Ja'anya said, "For being mine."

She then drew Alaric in for a much needed hug. Alaric was hesitant but he slowly hugged her back and they both fell back onto the bed. To be truthful, Ja'anya pulled Alaric down with her but Alaric didn't care.

They just stayed there in each other's embrace for a time. How long the stayed like that, they didn't know but they didn't care either.

And they didn't notice Zel'tyr who had come to check on them when Ja'anya wasn't answering the door. She saw the bedroom door open and the tray with food and the blue stained cloth and bowl on it. She walked over to the door and peered inside and she astonished to see both Alaric and Ja'anya asleep in each other's arms while still clothed. She was surprised to see them, on her bed like this but she wasn't shocked or angry. She saw that, after that match and the state he was in, Alaric was in need of comfort and reassurance and her daughter had provided that to him.

While she had reservations about Ja'anya being close with an ooman, she saw that the two were made for each other. She was certain that Kal'deris would think otherwise. He would be the overreacting if he saw this and Kra'vyx would remark eccentrically if he caught wind of this.

She decided to keep this to herself and then discuss this with Ja'anya some other time.

Zel'tyr smiled as Ja'anya stirred and shuffled closer to Alaric. Zel'tyr chose this moment to leave them in peace and come back later. But before she left, she placed a small object on the dining table. Something personal of Zel'tyr's that had relevant meaning.

It was holographic picture and it showed a young Zel'tyr in the embracing presence of a young male of her age, both in their hunter gear in a jungle setting with their masks removed. The male Yautja had darker skin then Zel'tyr's, darker stripes and contrasting golden amber eyes. They both had their foreheads together and their eyes half shut.

Her name was engraved where she was and another name was engraved under the male.

Kra'vyn.

Ja'anya's father.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12- Prelude to the hunt.**

The council of Elders after a long and heated debate ruled that Alaric, despite nearly killing one of their own as they had all seen firsthand, had passed the clan rites and after a small ceremony, Alaric was formally inducted into the clan. At the great temple of the gods, Alaric in traditional Yautja garb and the markings of initiation painted onto his body stood to attention. Ja'anya and her family where there, as was Kal'deris and the other Elders. They watched as Alaric, after some heavy persuasion knelt in front of the High Elder and the High Priestess of the gods. He was then blessed by the Priestess as the High Elder recited the clan rite transcripts.

Alaric weathered this as a necessary price to pursue the Marked.

Ja'anya was never happier for Alaric.

* * *

><p>Alaric was then due for his first hunt and Kal'deris pulled a few strings to make sure that Alaric was in the same group as Kra'vyx. This was done in account for Alaric's distrust of the Yautja he didn't know and the need to make sure no more 'accidents' occured. The hunt was scheduled to take place a few weeks and Alaric would need to have armor and weapons tailored for him while Kra'vyx's group were in their final stages of training. Alaric was more then happy to offer ideas for armor as he found the traditional hunter's armor not very protective and somewhat more revealing than he liked. He took a personal hand in designing and forging his armor. For weapons, Alaric insisted on using only his axes but after some thought he was willing to have a few weapons made for him.<p>

Socially, Alaric was treated with a mixture of suspicion and uncertainty. It was mildly amusing how some Yautja would cautiously shuffle out of the way whenever he walked near them. Defeating Vyl'kar had certainly imposed a new level of respect for him, as well as instilling a certain amount of fear because of his Rage capabilities. However, it also brought forth new challenges from other hunters who where more than eager to take on the Slayer. Despite soundly beating all who challenged him, Alaric was always up for rematches and no one was foolish enough to push Alaric too far.

Alaric was fitting into the Yautja lifestyle, slowly but surely.

Kra'vyx and Ja'anya were at the armory, waiting for Alaric to appear in his new armor. He and the Forgemaster, the venerable Master Smith Val'hariz, had been in the forge for the last two weeks. They could be heard making final adjustments and the smith's grumbling over this new fangled armor design followed by Alaric's tactical comebacks.

Kra'vyx was already parading in his newly finished armor, after having taken a note from Alaric's views about strategic armor placement, getting the feel of it and remembering how it was assembled. He had his kataras in his hands and he was posing with them, finding which stance would make him look the most intimidating.

"What about this, Sister?" Kra'vyx said, striking the fighting stance of Alaric's.

Ja'anya watched her brother. He was heavily armored around his lower legs, torso and forearms. Alaric had commented that Kra'vyx chosen the hoplite armor style. All that he was missing was the large round shield and Corinthian helm.

"Kra'vyx, if you keep moving around like that your armor will wear out before the hunt." Ja'anya warned.

"Just trying to get a feel for it." Kra'vyx muttered as he sheathed his kataras.

Footsteps were heard coming from the workshop and Alaric came walking out, his boots thumping on the floor. Ja'anya's eyes went wide as she saw Alaric in his new armor. In comparison to other hunters, Alaric was more armored. He had armored greaves, and boots protecting his lower legs, while he had segmented armor plates protecting his thighs and groin. His still wore his marine fatigues under all this armor.

On top he wore an armored cuirass covering his ribcage with segmented armored bands coming down his back and over his shoulders. Separate armor plates covered his sides and abdomen. In the center of his armor, just under his collar was his rune engraved in blue enamel. His forearms were encased in armored gauntlets, the left of which held the standard wrist computer.

His mask, specially made for him, had the SAS motto engraved on the forehead. Val'hiriz had no clue what the words meant.

Alaric now looked more like a Yautja hunter. The only thing that was missing was the dreadlocks.

"How do I look?" Alaric asked, muffled by his mask while adjusting his gauntlets. "God, I can hardly see in this thing."

Kra'vyx saw that his sister was just staring at Alaric with clear infatuation in her eyes from seeing Alaric in Yautja armor. He smirked as he saw what was going on.

"Sister." Kra'vyx said, shaking her shoulder.

Ja'anya regained her senses with a slight blush. She walked around Alaric, looking at every detail on his armor. She had imagined Alaric in hunter armor in the past but that was small thinking when she saw him for real. She started trailing her hands all round his armor, feeling it form around his body.

There was just one thing missing.

"We've got to do something with your hair, Alaric." Ja'anya said, sliding her fingers through his hair on his left.

Alaric looked at her and pulled his mask off, refusal plain in his red eyes.

"Hey, I'm not braiding my hair." He objected irritably. "I like my spikes just the way they are."

Kra'vyx snickered as the thought of Alaric with braids crept in his mind. A glare from Ja'anya soon shut him up.

"Well, how about putting decorative bands on where your spikes form." Ja'anya proposed.

Alaric considered the idea. He had seen the dreadlock bands in the markets many times and he had been curious as to how they would work on his spikes.

"As long as I can keep my spikes, I'm in." He agreed.

Ja'anya didn't waste anytime. As Alaric went back to Ja'anya's home with Kra'vyx in tow, she traveled to the market district. She watched as her people went about their business. Hunters of different clans trading in the pelts of beasts they'd hunted. Traders were selling off goods from different clan-ships and craftsman of many different disciplines showing off their wears.

She moved over to the jewelers where the distinctive dreadlock bands were made and she started having a look as to what Alaric might like. There were many different styles and types of bands to choose from. There were simple plain cylinders, intricate web-like wire bands, runic embossed bands, and even some styles that she had never seen before. She picked up one of the silver runic bands and had a look at it.

He might like these bands, she thought.

The jeweler came from behind the wall, working on a decorative bracer and he noticed Ja'anya.

"Oh, you're the huntress with the ooman." He said, putting the bracer down on a work bench.

Ja'anya looked up from the band and nodded in greetings to the trader.

"Yes, I'm with Alaric." She confirmed.

The Jeweler looked around.

"Is he here in the market?" He asked.

"No, he's with my brother. Did you want to see him?"

"Oh, there's no need right now. Its just that I have been so busy with several commissions and other... issues that I've never had a chance to see him."

He saw the band in Ja'anya's hand.

"Banding his hair, is he?" The Jeweler asked curiously.

Ja'anya nodded.

"I'm thinking that he would like the runic bands." Ja'anya said, putting it back.

The Jeweler nodded.

"Judging by his marking preferences that would be an excellent choice." He commented. "How many would you need?"

Ja'anya started calculating the number in her head. It would take a lot more than what an average hunter would use. The Jeweler cut her to the chase.

"Here." the Jeweler said, reaching around the back and pulling out a leather sack.

He handed it to Ja'anya and she opened it. It was full of shining, silver runic bands of various sizes. She picked one out of the sack and looked at it. It was of superb quality, not a single blemish or rough edge, and there was and inlay of midnight blue enamel filling the rune spaces.

"That should cover all of those spikes of his." The Jeweler said with a smile.

Ja'anya reached into a pouch and pulled out several exquisite diamonds, a little something she picked up from those extremists and their arms smuggling. The Jeweler shook his head when he saw them.

"Don't pay." The Jeweler said, raising his hands. "Free of charge, I insist."

Ja'anya looked at him.

"But you made these and earned what ever you were going to sell them for." She said countered.

The Jeweler shook his head.

"I insist." He sincerely stated.

Ja'anya put the diamonds back in her pouch. She looked at the sack, trying to figure out the Jeweler's reasons for giving away such prized works of art.

"Why are you just giving them away?" Ja'anya asked. "These are worth a fortune."

The Jeweler lowered his head.

"My daughter was one of Sil'cais' victims." He answered solemnly, raising his head

Ja'anya gasped.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized. "I shouldn't have asked."

The Jeweler raised a hand.

"Don't be." He assured her. "That bastard is dead and she is at peace now. Consider these a gift of my thanks. It's the least I can do to repay him."

Ja'anya looked at the sack for a second and decided to accept the gift.

"Well, thank you for your generous gift." She said, bowing her head. "I'm sure Alaric will see you when he has time."

The Jeweler nodded as he picked up the bracer he was working on and resumed his work.

Ja'anya made her way back out of the markets, daydreaming about seeing Alaric wearing the bands when she was roused from her thoughts.

Ja'anya felt something bump into her and she staggered a few steps. She looked down and saw a surprising sight. It was one of the two children, the small boy that Alaric had met when he first arrived. And the first thing Ja'anya noticed was that he was wearing blue paint on his skin, imitating Alaric's slayer patterns. He also had two wooden axes in his hands. She looked up and saw his sister and some of their friends who were dressed in the same fashion.

"Sorry, Ja'anya." The boy said before charging back at his friends.

Ja'anya watched as the children ran off, attacking each other and parrying with their sticks. Onlookers watched as the kids ran off, muttering about kids these days. Ja'anya couldn't help but chuckle as she saw this sight. Little slayers off to their next battle.

It seemed Alaric had a little influence on the younger generation.

* * *

><p>That same evening, Ja'anya had shown Alaric his gift during dinner with her family. He liked the runes engraved on the bands and said this was the first time he had ever received a present like this. He made a mental note to thank the Jeweler personally.<p>

Kra'vyx remarked that the bands and their runes would suit him perfectly and Zel'tyr was intrigued that a human would don the Yautja hairstyle. Kal'deris simply said he would have to wait until he saw Alaric with them on to judge them.

When Alaric was told that the two kids and their friends had starting painting themselves like he did, Alaric was both surprised and somewhat concerned. He would have to teach them not to get any foolish ideas but at least they didn't have the Rage to deal with.

Throughout dinner, Kal'deris noticed that Ja'anya would occasionally lean affectionately against Alaric's shoulder whenever he pointed at something new or talked about the current subject.

It was there that he started getting suspicious about the nature of their relationship.

Alaric and Ja'anya had both just finished washing after returning home, sharing the shower as was now the norm and Ja'anya didn't waste anytime pulling Alaric out of the shower the moment the water stopped flowing with Alaric almost slipping over and taking Ja'anya down with him. Not that she would have complained.

The bands worked best when the hair is clean.

Obscured in the steam filled room, Alaric was now sitting bare on a little stool. He didn't even have the chance to wrap a towel around himself, as Ja'anya knelt behind him and tenderly started to connect the bands to his hair. She followed the spikes in his hair, following their curving arcs to their base. She applied the first set of bands where his hair met his upper back, sliding and latching them into place in a downward curve pattern and there they fixed to his hair. Alaric scratched his head as he felt his hair react to the bands by twitching.

Ja'anya giggled at his reaction.

"Keep laughing Ja'anya." Alaric said, lowering his hand. "I bet your bands itched when they first latched on your dreads."

"They did, as a matter of fact." She replied. "But after a while, you get used to it."

Alaric felt the next set of bands fit in his hair, in curving line with the small of his back. She then placed the end caps on the spike tips and she shuffled back to look at her work. After quick admiration, she shuffled closer and rested her head on Alaric's left shoulder.

Alaric felt her breasts pressing into his back somewhat deliberately.

"Enjoying your handiwork?" Alaric asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

Ja'anya purred in response, wrapping her arm around him. She felt the side of his head, feeling the draping spikes curl around her fingers. She then moved in front of Alaric with a handful of small bands intended for his sides. She clipped them on the ends of his spikes and she looked at Alaric and her handiwork.

Alaric sat there on the stool with his arms casually down and resting on his thighs, strategically covering himself. The bands in his hair, the water droplets on his skin and his ruby eyes glittered in the light.

It was truthfully arousing to Ja'anya. She started panting and Alaric chuckled.

"From the way you're panting, this is a dream come true, right?" Alaric asked.

He was answered when Ja'anya pounced on him, sending him on his back into the tiled floor with his banded hair jingling like a set of small bells. He found himself pinned to the floor, his hair spread all around him as Ja'anya straddled his waist before resting her head on his shoulder and nuzzling him while purring loudly. Alaric sighed and reached out for a towel laying nearby. He then started drying her back, making her purr even louder.

'_I have got to stop pushing her buttons!'_ Alaric thought with a grin.

* * *

><p>There was still one matter that Alaric needed to tend to on a more personal level before the hunt. And that was to visit Vyl'kar to make amends. It was now three weeks after that fateful fight and Alaric was hoping that Vyl'kar would accept his gift.<p>

Alaric spent a lot of time carving a large malachite slab into a life-size mask, using his own mask as a basis for the design. He had gone and carved the SAS motto in Yautja glyphs on the brow, just like his own mask. He thought that it would be fitting for Vyl'kar.

Alaric, with Ja'anya and Kal'deris, entered the infirmary. There were many hunters in cubicles who had taken bad hits and received various injuries during their hunts and also those who had unfortunate accidents on ship. It could well be argued that Vyl'kar was one of those.

Kal'deris led them to the cubicle that Vyl'kar was recovering in. Alaric noticed that some of those hunters who had insulted his father were still here and when they saw Alaric they frantically tried to keep their distance. Alaric smirked when he saw their leader in particular, tumble out of the bed with a loud crack of bone coming from his back. He yelped in pain as an orderly came to put him back in bed.

Kal'deris verified their presence to one of the orderlies assigned to Vyl'kar and they were allowed entrance. Alaric held the gift behind his back as a surprise as the door slid open.

They saw Vyl'kar in the massive infirmary bed, covered up to his waist in a sheet and both his arms stitched up and in splints. His arms were position at his sides and he flexed his fingers in shock when he saw Alaric. All of the cuts and bruises were mostly healed now.

His mate and son were there too and the boy's reaction upon seeing Alaric, was to immediately charge at Alaric in desperate anger.

Alaric felt a flurry of blows impacting on his legs and gut. Kal'deris moved to wrench the boy away from Alaric, but Alaric quickly raised a hand stopping him. Vyl'kar's son obviously need to take his frustrations out on the human who beaten his father to a pulp. The blows were not affecting Alaric in the slightest and he casually scratched his hair, his bands jingling.

Vyl'kar's mate watched while totally perplexed at Alaric's seeming indifference to her son's enraged attack.

"Go ahead, kid." Alaric said softly. "Let it all out."

Alaric could feel the blows getting weaker. Vyl'kar's son was getting exhausted. The boy finally stopped beating Alaric and was now panting heavily and still glaring angrily. He gave one last head butt on Alaric's gut and just stood there leaning on Alaric for support.

"Better?" Alaric asked, patting the child on the head

The boy nodded, worn out by his ineffective assault.

"Run along to your mother." Kal'deris ordered. "Your father and Alaric have some matters to see too."

The boy shuffled off to his mother, muttering to himself. The two then left the cubicle. Alaric and Kal'deris approached Vyl'kar.

"How are you feeling, Vyl'kar?" Kal'deris asked.

Vyl'kar clicked his mandibles.

"My arms are still fractured to buggery, Elder." He said. "But apart from that, I'm just..." He looked at Alaric. "What's a suitable ooman word to describe me being fine?"

"Peachy or Dandy, whichever your prefer." Alaric said, holding the carving behind his back.

Vyl'kar scoffed at the words.

"What strange words you oomans use to describe things." He said. "Why are you here?"

Alaric took a breath.

"I… and this is hard for me to explain, owe you an explanation." Alaric said. "What happened to you was… let's just say… a self defense mechanism."

Vyl'kar frowned.

"You calling these 'self defense'?" The bed-ridden Yautja demanded, gesturing to his arms. "You almost killed me!"

"Be thankful that was all Alaric did." Ja'anya spoke up in his defense. "If you were a Bad Blood, you would not have a chance against him."

Vyl'kar went quiet. He had seen the footage of Alaric defeating Sil'cais and understood that Ja'anya was speaking the truth.

"The Elders are partly to blame too." Kal'deris added. "We admit it was a mistake to continue the fight with the berserker in his... rage. But we had laws to uphold."

Vyl'kar nodded.

"I admit, grudgingly, you're the first warrior, or in that case the first ooman, to ever defeat me in single combat." Vyl'kar said to Alaric.

"And I have to admit," Alaric said, giving Vyl'kar a rare smile. "You were the first Yautja, intentional killers excluded, to ever pummel me like that. If I didn't... snap, you would've seriously knocked me out."

Vyl'kar grunted in agreement over both facts.

"So I hope you will accept this as a gesture of wiping the slate clean." Alaric said.

Alaric shuffled closer and he revealed the gift behind his back. Vyl'kar's eyes went wide as he saw the malachite mask.

"I didn't know what you liked as a gift so I carved this." Alaric said. "It's like a general gift or something."

Vyl'kar was surprised that his defeater had actually brought him a gift. Alaric held the malachite mask closer for the bedridden Yautja to look at, and examine. The level of intricate detail was amazing, a match for even the most disciplined craftsman. He then saw the words and to him they were cryptic at best.

"What do the ooman words mean?" He asked, unable to translate the phrase.

Alaric moved a finger over the words.

"Who dares wins." He said as his finger pointed at each word. "Fortune favors the bold."

Vyl'kar and Kal'deris murmured positively at that description. Hunting and taking down bigger and bigger game was always the main objective for hunters. The more dangerous and near impossible to take down, the more prestige in the clan that would be given. Alaric could tell that the motto was starting to catch on with the populace. Ja'anya smiled inwardly as Alaric and Vyl'kar sealed the rift between them.

* * *

><p>It was the night before the hunt and the small group of initiates were spending what could possibly be their last time at home. All the training and learning throughout their childhood would soon come into use as they would hunt for their first kill and earn their place on Lai'Kairis.<p>

They were in the great hall, over at what would pass as a tavern. Kra'vyx was introducing Alaric to his friends. Ly'enta, the striped female acted somewhat giddily when Alaric said hello to her. Fel'tak, the sand colored male nodded at Alaric and the second male, a broad black mottled one named Mal'fax thumped a fist on his chest in recognition.

They all sat at the table while they had food and drink brought out to them.

"You all nervous about the upcoming hunt?" Alaric asked, putting some meat and vegetables on his plate.

The initiates laughed at his accusation as they got their meals.

"Nervous?" Mal'fax said "This is what we were born to do!"

Fel'tak nodded.

"When we reach the hunting grounds, the Kainde Amedha won't know what hit them." He boasted.

"Or you won't when they sneak up on you." Alaric countered, biting into some meat. "You can't kill what you can't see."

Ly'enta spoke up.

"With our masks, they won't be able to hide." She pointed.

"And supposing you lose your mask or it gets damaged, what then?" Alaric questioned.

That made Ly'enta go silent. Kra'vyx started nodding in consideration over what Alaric just said. Mal'fax

"You talk like you have faced Kainde Amedha before." Fel'tak said.

"I have faced bugs many times and they never cease to surprise me." Alaric said. "They way they look at you, behind their eyeless visage, they are constantly adapting and learning. Many a time I've had specific tactics rendered useless after an encounter with them."

Alaric leaned closer to them.

"I'm giving you lot a piece of advice. From my own experiences." Alaric said, making sure they were listening. "Facing the enemy in real life, face to face, is nothing like training. In training, if you screw up an exercise or a combat maneuver, you just get a smack over the head by your trainer and just try again. But out there, in the battlefield, if you make one mistake, your enemy will exploit it and cut you down without mercy."

"I have seen many young rookies ignore orders from experienced marines and just charge into the fray, guns blazing. Apart from a lucky few, all of them ended up going home in body bags or not going home at all. All because they have underestimated the enemy."

Alaric took a swig of ale from his cup.

"Enough of the combat tips, we can bicker about them when we're out there." Alaric said, perking up. "For tonight, let's just enjoy ourselves."

Mal'fax looked down at his plate and he snickered.

"You look at this and you think 'What noise did this make when it was alive?'" Mal'fax said, holding a piece of golden meat in his fingers and showing them.

Kra'vyx looked at the meat and made a suggestion.

"I think it went 'Gnash! Gnash!'." He said, splaying his fingers apart and clapping his hands lightly, mimicking a feral beast's maw.

Alaric looked at the meat and immediately recognized it. He had been eating that kind of meat for a long time. He cupped his hands to his mouth and he started making a guttural grunting sound. The others looked at him.

"Pygmy Ankylosaur." Alaric said with a smirk. "High in protein and you'll need it."

Kra'vyx laughed and Ly'enta gave a small chuckle. Mal'fax flicked the meat into his mouth and chewed a few times.

"Whatever it was, it's delicious." Mal'fax said.

They continued chatting about the coming hunt and boasting about their skills. Alaric listened so as to know his groups strengths and how to adjust for their weaknesses. Kra'vyx was a brawler, intent on getting into the thick of things. Fel'tak boasted about having the most precision out of the group, evidently taking the role of a sniper. Ly'enta had mobility on her side and high level of dexterity. Mal'fax was obviously the heavy muscle and brick wall of the group with a hint of wisdom behind his large exterior.

When Alaric was asked about his style, he just answered that he took a jack-of-all-trades approach with emphasis on adapting to the dangers. His hand axes for speed and his great axe for damage.

"Oh! Have a look at these." Kra'vyx said chuckling while pointing at a bowl filled with some brown glistening things in it.

"What are those?" Alaric asked.

Kra'vyx picked up the bowl and showed him. It was full of fat, roasted insects that partially resembled termites. Only these bugs were all two inches long and rather bulbous. There were long wings sticking out of them that was about the length of their bodies.

"You bastard!" Fel'tak said. "You ordered those!"

Kra'vyx snickered. His friends made disgusted grunts as he offered the bowl around.

"I am not eating one of those." Mal'fax said, pushing the bowl away.

Fel'tak and Ly'enta both pushed the bowl away in disgust when Kra'vyx offered. Kra'vyx muttered how they had no sense of adventure in trying bizarre foods. He held the bowl to Alaric. Alaric looked at the fried bugs and saw the disapproving looks he was getting from the others.

"God, you kids..." He started.

Alaric picked one up by the wings, looked at the crispy insect and without a care he shoved it completely in his mouth and casually tossed the wings over his shoulder. The others were surprised and dumbfounded as he chewed it a few times to illustrate his point and swallowed.

"You, what..." Fel'tak said in disbelief.

"He swallowed it?" Ly'enta gagged.

Alaric smirked. He had eaten his fair share of bugs back on Floria VII on a regular basis. Quite often, he'd had to live on bugs between kills. Not only were they readily available and a great source of protein, but they were sometimes the only reliable food source.

"I'm telling you, these things aren't that bad." He said, picking another up. "I could drink your ale and eat these bugs all night." He bit into the bug and swallowed without chewing before taking a gulp of ale. "It's protein, that's all it is."

"That's the spirit!" Kra'vyx said, slapping Alaric on the back in praise as he put another in his mouth.

Alaric coughed and found that the whole bug had got caught up in his throat and he started gagging. Fel'tak started laughing at this sight while Kra'vyx gave Alaric another slap on the back. Alaric coughed up the bug and, in an act of karma, went flying into Fel'taks open laughing mouth. Fel'tak was now choking while Alaric took a couple of much needed breaths. Fel'tak, having failed to cough it up, had to swallow it.

Fel'tak retched as he felt the bug slip down his throat.

"You really need to know when to keep your mouth shut, Fel'tak." Mal'fax said, biting into some meat.

* * *

><p>The rest of the night droned on without any other incidents involving food and talk over the hunt. It was soon time for the initiates to head back to their quarters and to get some vital sleep.<p>

After saying their goodbyes, Alaric and Kra'vyx walked back to Ja'anya's home, planning to get some much needed sleep for tomorrow. Kra'vyx kept talking on about the hunt and what he'd do to the first xenomorph that he spotted. Alaric kept reminding him that as a rookie he still has to watch himself as the xenomorphs are notoriously adaptable.

They arrived back at Ja'anya's home and Kra'vyx bid Alaric a good night, along with a little implying comment about him and Ja'anya before heading back to his own quarters.

Alaric entered their home, blushing after Kra'vyx's comment and saw that all the lights were out. Ja'anya must already be in bed. Alaric shut the door, untied his boots and left them by the door next to Ja'anya sandals. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness as he cautiously walked over to the bedroom, pausing when he saw his axes in their harness. His marine boots and greaves were propped next to them, polished to a lustrous shine to match his axes.

A remnant of the life he had left behind.

He went over the last few months of his life. He remembered how he had nearly died from the Psuedo-Raptors and Ja'anya saved his life. He crushed Sil'cais the Scourged when he threatened to rape and kill Ja'anya. They had become close as the days passed during the journey to Lai'Kairis. Their arrival wasn't as friendly to Alaric as he expected but he made his presence known. Then the clan rites where everyone now knew what he was capable of cemented his place.

He had come a long way the last few years.

He tore his gaze from his weapons and resumed walking.

Alaric entered the bedroom and in the dim light he saw that Ja'anya was already asleep. She was curled up in the center of the bed and was purring softly. The sheets were up to her waist and Alaric could see the contrasting stripes on her body. He could see her fingers lightly grip the bed as she dreamed, pulling the bed lining up in her grasp.

It was moments like these where Alaric could truly see her beauty.

_Alaric returned home late, finishing another long and dangerous mission. Now was time for a some well earned R&R. Removing his marine issue boots and gently dumping his pack by the door, Alaric carefully moved up the stairs, mindful of the first step that creaks. He reached the top floor and sneaked over to his room. The door was shut and he gently opened it._

_In bed was his wife Sam, fast asleep. Alaric carefully shut the door behind him as he moved towards her. He sat on the bed and just watched as she slept. She stirred but didn't wake up, merely giving a content sigh. Alaric then stripped off his uniform to his vest and boxers and joined her under the covers. He slowly wrapped his arms around her. She murmured in her sleep and Alaric gently kissed her on her cheek._

_He then slowly lowered his hand and gently cupped her pregnant belly._

Alaric sighed lightly to himself as he stripped down to his boxers.

'_Déjà vu.'_ He thought ironically.

Alaric carefully moved up close, trying not to wake her up as he sat down behind her. He laid down next to her, sliding under the covers and gently wrapped his arms around her. Ja'anya stirred as she let go of the bed before she instinctively shuffling closer to Alaric, relishing the warmth of his body. Her purring got more relaxed as she clasped his arms.

She then opened an eye, yawning as she looked up at him.

"You alright?" He whispered.

Ja'anya nuzzled his shoulder as he laid back.

"I can't believe it has finally come." She whispered back. "With this hunt, you will become one with the clan."

"I have trouble believing it myself. Only two months ago, I was on a jungle planet, fighting for my life and now here I am. I'm an honorary member of the Yautja race."

Ja'anya didn't answer. She was just staring into space as her head laid on his chest. There was something else on her mind.

"Ja'anya, you seem distant." He said, concerned.

She sighed.

"I'm concerned about the hunt." She whispered. "You and Kra'vyx will be fighting for your lives."

"Yeah?" Alaric said.

She looked up at him.

"I lost my father to the hunt, ambushed by dozens of Kainde Amedha. A part of me doesn't want you to go."

He started stroking her back reassuringly.

"Ja'anya, if I don't go, I won't be considered a member of the clan." He said. "I have fought enough Bugs to know what they are capable off."

"I know, but you faced the Kainde Amedha with your ooman weaponry, at a distance." She said, resting her head back on his chest. "I have seen them tear your people to shreds up close. Any ooman foolish enough to get close were always killed or were... taken."

The horrible thought of seeing Alaric, entombed in a hive and subjected to a xenomorph's violent birth brought a tear to her eye.

Alaric pulled Ja'anya on top of him and she laid there as Alaric sat himself up. She instinctively huddled up to him.

"Don't worry, Ja'anya." Alaric assured her. "I'll make sure we all come back. You have my word."

Ja'anya pulled herself up, sitting on his lap and placed her hands on his chest. Alaric drew her in with his arms into a loving embrace.

"You're word?" She asked. "A promise?"

Alaric smiled.

"When my family makes a promise..." He started.

He brought a hand to the back of her head.

"We fully intend to keep it." He finished

He brought her head close and gave her a tender kiss on her forehead to seal the deal. Ja'anya shivered and purred when she felt Alaric's lips on her skin.

Alaric's first kiss to her since her previous attempt many long weeks ago.

She moved back so they were face to face, their faces close to each other. Ja'anya could see the warm smile on Alaric's face. Ja'anya never felt so loved as she cupped Alaric's face with one hand and the other rested on his chest, slowly rubbing the line between his pectorals and disturbing his tags. She opened her mandibles and gently nipped Alaric's cheeks before gently licking where she nipped him. Alaric lightly chuckled as his hands ventured down to her back, making her purr louder. Holding her at the waist, he gently picked her up off his lap and he gently laid her down so that Ja'anya was now on the bed, her dreadlocks spread around her and Alaric supported himself over her on his elbows.

Ja'anya was panting heavily, arms curled on her chest as Alaric then lowered his head and kissed her gently on her inner mouth, shutting his eyes when they touched. Ja'anya had now shut her eyes too in bliss and her purring was resonating to Alaric's lips as she gently clasped his head and back, urging him closer to her body. Her mandibles gently began dragging on his cheeks as she indulged in her fantasy-come-to-life.

And Kra'vyx wasn't here to ruin it this time.

Oomans are so lucky to have lips, Ja'anya thought. I could get used to this.

Alaric felt Ja'anya's tongue vacate from her mouth and drag along his lips, seemingly intent on setting up residence in his. He opened up slightly to give her passage and her tongue quickly met his inside his mouth. The two muscles then started fighting against each other for dominance in Alaric's mouth. He chuckled softly as her purring intensified, sending vibrations down her tongue and through his.

He pulled back from their kiss and started nuzzling her shoulder for a change. Ja'anya clicked her mandibles as she felt him lightly kiss her between her neck and collarbone, moving her head away to allow him better access.

As he was withdrawing and licking his lips, Ja'anya had other plans in store for him. She firmly locked Alaric in place with her legs and gave him a mischievous smirk. Alaric saw that she had no intention of letting him go. She flipped him over and his bands jingled as he landed on his back with a bounce.

Alaric looked up at Ja'anya as she straddled his waist, pinning him to the bed.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He smirked.

Ja'anya purred dominantly as she lowered herself, capturing Alaric in another heated kiss with one hand caressing his chest and the other hand reaching lower.

Alaric quickly grasped her hand when he felt her rub a certain part. Her touch felt pleasurable but it was going too far. For now at least.

Ja'anya broke the kiss and looked at him with confusion.

"Alaric?" She panted, thinking she had done something wrong.

Alaric cupped her face reassuringly and she clicked her mandibles in anticipation as he gently rubbed her cheek. He brought her intruding hand up and placed it on his cheek.

"That is for another time." He whispered. "For now, we should get some sleep."

Ja'anya in her aroused mind thought about this and nodded reluctantly. His hunt was tomorrow and he had not gotten any sleep so far. He wouldn't be much good if he fell asleep during a xenomorph ambush.

Ja'anya admitted defeat, for now.

Alaric brought her back down and gave her one last lingering kiss which she enthusiastically answered. She slid off his chest and settled down before burying her face into his neck. She sniffed deeply, filling her senses with his scent.

Alaric was hers. All hers.

Alaric turned on his side slightly to face her and she slipped into his embrace, one arm over his chest and her purrs resonating in her chest.

"We'll make it back, Ja'anya." He whispered as she shut her eyes. "That's a promise."

* * *

><p>The hunting party had been assembled and they were all lined up with their masks in their hands in front of their shuttle, all young and Unblooded. Alaric was the only certified warrior amongst them. Alaric stood with his axes holstered and arms crossed. Kra'vyx was clicking his mandibles in anticipation with his kataras at his sides. Fel'tak and Mal'fax had their weapons on their shoulders, Fel'tak with his double bladed cleft stave and Mal'fax with his hammer. Ly'enta had her chain whips at her hips. Their combi-sticks and other hunter gear were stowed in their packs.<p>

Alaric definitely looked the odd one out, being the most armored and the shortest while the rest of the party were sparsely armored and immensely tall. All of them chose the mobility over protection configuration, though Mal'fax had what looked like a thick scale mail shirt covering his torso.

Ja'anya, Zel'tyr, and Kal'deris were with them along with a small following of Yautja, the families of the other initiates. Kal'deris walked over to the young initiatives.

"Initiates." Kal'deris said to them. "All your training has now come to this pivotal hunt. You will now hunt down the ultimate prey and earn your place on Lai'Kairis. I will not lie to you, this hunt and the many others that will follow are dangerous and you may even die during one of them. But as we and our ancestors have succeeded, you shall too." He pointed to the shuttle. "Now, go and fulfill your destiny as hunters of the stars."

The initiates bowed their heads to the Elder while Alaric just nodded. They then turned sharply towards the shuttle and marched up the ramp to the side hatch. Alaric walked up the ramp behind them, stopping as he reached the top. He looked back at Ja'anya, saw Ja'anya's anxiousness and her clicking mandibles and gave her a thumbs up. Ja'anya nodded back at him and he stepped into the shuttle as the hatchway sealed shut.

The initiates moved to their seats and strapped themselves in. They could feel the shuttle lift and hover. The pilot in the cockpit could be heard verifying their departure and with the roar of plasma engines, the shuttle left the hangers.

Alaric watched through a porthole at Lai'Kairis as the shuttle roared with great speed through the depths of the void and within a few minutes, Lai'Kairis was gone from sight.

The young hunters were now on their way.

Inside the shuttle, everyone unlatched their seat harnesses when the pilot told them it was safe to do so. It would be some time before they arrived on the hunting grounds and it was a wise thing to do some last minute checks before hand.

"This is it, my friends." Fel'tak said in excitement. "We are gonna be full fledged hunters."

The young Yautjas got up from their seats and moved around the compartment. Alaric stayed in his seat, putting his mask on and crossing his arms. He was going to catch a few winks.

"How are you gonna kill your first bug?" Alaric asked, resting his head to his side and shutting his eyes.

"First one? I'll slaughter a whole bunch of them!" Fel'tak said, giving his stave a flourish.

"My sister killed three at once on her first hunt." Kra'vyx said getting up. "Try and beat that."

Alaric chuckled.

"I remember on one mission sticking a flamer into an air vent and then squeezing the trigger." He said. "Bugs went swarming out of the vents like molten fire. I counted twenty fireballs falling out. Had to keep clear of them 'cause they have a habit of going pop when set alight."

"How do you mean pop?" Ly'enta asked.

Alaric didn't answer. In fact he had dozed off, judging by his breathing and relaxed posture. Ly'enta was annoyed that Alaric had just fallen asleep like that. Kra'vyx laughed at Alaric's knack of sleeping like a rock.

* * *

><p>The pilot checked their course, seeing how long their journey would be. He had made this trip dozens of times, taking the next generation of hunters to their first hunt. And for this trip he was making good time. He calculated that they would be at the hunting grounds with two hours.<p>

A new personal record.

A bleep came from his console. It was an incoming transmission. He checked his instruments and found, oddly, that the signal wasn't identified. He flicked his headset to receive it.

"This is Initiate Shuttle Alpha, who's calling on this line?" The pilot asked.

"Shuttle Alpha, you are ordered to head to the following coordinates, with due haste." An unknown voice replied.

The pilot frowned.

"Who is this? I'm not getting a reading from your end."

"Never mind that, I am one of the Elite caste and I am ordering you to head to the following coordinates."

"What is the reason?"

"That is classified."

"Well, Elite or not, without proper identification I am not changing course."

The console's holo-projector flashed into life and the static laced image of a fully armored and masked warrior appeared. The armor was of Elite manufacture but there were no markings to determine which clan the warrior belonged to, whether it was Lai'Kairis or any other clan he knew of. The fact that this Yautja was an Elite, second only to Elders was enough to change the situation.

The pilot saw the coordinates appear on his console and he raised a brow as he read them. The coordinates were not ones that he was familiar with. In fact, he had never seen them before.

"This can't be right." The pilot said, confused as the warrior's image blipped off.. "According to my navi-comp, there is no hunting planet in that sector."

"Oh, there is a hunting world there. A special one." The voice said. "Strictly... need-to-know information that only special cases get sent to."

"Need-to-know? What is being implied here?"

"I would've thought you knew enough about rank than to start questioning orders."

"But that is not the designated hunting world."

"Pilot, I will not say this again. You are to head to those coordinates for their hunt, right now. Do I make myself clear?"

The Pilot grunted in reluctance.

"Fine. I'll include in my report that I objected to this decision." He said.

"That's better, now get over there due haste." The Yautja ordered.

The coms shut off after that personal note and the pilot entered the coordinates into his navigational systems. He muttered that this was going to throw their scheduling to hell. The shuttle then followed the coordinates and the trip was calculated to take even longer.

Several hours passed and the pilot was coming close to calling Lai'Kairis about this message. An Elite hunter might have authority to change a ship's course but this was a traditional hunt and that was something only the Elders were authorized to do. He would have to check to see if any of the Elders sanctioned this change.

His instruments bleeped and he checked them. The shuttle was coming up onto the coordinates. The Pilot decided to check out the planet before reporting to the Elders. He saw a small ball in the void that was slowly getting bigger.

Then he saw a ball of white in front of the shuttle, getting ever closer. It was a white planet. Readouts started bleeping and projecting and the pilots eyes went wide as he recognized the planet and the reason why it wasn't registered.

This world was one of the few marked as forbidden by ancient law as being far too dangerous for even the Yautja race to survive on!

"By the Ancestors!" The pilot gasped. "Not that world! The initiates won't last for even a day!"

There was no way that the Elders would ever send any hunters, and certainly not Unblooded initiates to that planet. Those orders had to be false.

The pilot made a sharp turn with the controls and the shuttle started to veer away from the planet. However, a few beeps and electronic buzzing from the console soon changed that. The shuttle resumed its trajectory to the planet.

The pilot struggled to regain control of the craft but it was no use. The shuttle controls were overridden by an external source and he cursed as he realized that fact.

Then it dawned on him.

"A navigation virus!" He cursed.

The pilots headset bleeped.

"I am very disappointed that you tried to disobey your orders." The Elite said. "So I have given you a little... nudge in the right direction, so to speak."

"Who is this?" The pilot demanded. "How did you even know about this hunt?"

"Those who aid the Bloodline must be culled."

There was no answer. The pilot cursed and after several more futile attempts to change course did the only thing he could do. Prepare the ship for planet-fall. He pulled a lever on the ceiling and a segmented armored hull covered the canopy. His view was blocked for a second until a holographic display popped up, restoring the view in front of the shuttle.

The shuttle was locked on this course and the pilot was able to keep the shuttle steady at least. When they landed he could issue a call for help. And pray to the gods that help would get there soon.

The Pilot opened communications to initiate a distress call to Lai'Kairis, only to find that the comms were being blocked and the shuttle's transponder had been disabled.

They were for all intents and purposes on their own.

"Gods, watch over us." The pilot prayed before a thought came into his head. "What did that Elite mean by the Bloodline?"

* * *

><p>Alaric opened his eyes when he felt a light rocking in the compartment. He saw Kra'vyx and Fel'tak were busy comparing their armor with Fel'tak while joking about why Alaric had worn so much armor. Mal'fax was sitting on the floor, heaving his hammer back and forth. Alaric looked to his side and saw that Ly'enta was resting her head on his shoulder, fast asleep and her fidgeting was the cause of the rocking. He gently roused her from her slumber and got up.<p>

"We're still flying." He yawned, stretching his arms and removing his mask.

"For the last four hours, at this point." Fel'tak said.

"I don't like this." Kra'vyx added. "Sister said her trip was under half that time."

"Well we better get there soon." Mal'fax said, "I can't stand being in this shuttle for much longer."

Alaric looked at the porthole and noticed that it was sealed over by armor plating. In fact, all of the portholes were covered.

The shuttle then started to vibrate slightly. Mal'fax picked himself up in relief. Ly'enta rubbed her eyes and got up as well. She yawned and watched the others check their gear. She mostly watched Alaric, as he made sure his axes were firmly holstered.

It would be informative to say that Ly'enta did seem to have a small crush on Alaric. Not that she knew about Alaric's growing relationship with Ja'anya.

"Finally, we're entering the atmosphere." Fel'tak said.

'Entering' was about to be an understatement.

The shuttle starting rocking more erratically and warning lights came on. Something was wrong with the planetary entry. A sudden lurch nearly made everyone lose balance. Kra'vyx went head first into a wall with a loud thud. Fel'tak laughed at his friend's misfortune before another lurch made him connect to a wall.

"What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?" Mal'fax said as Fel'tak rubbed his head.

"Initiates, get back in your seats and strap in!" The Pilot ordered over the interior comms.

The shuttle's rocking was becoming even rougher and was going seriously off balance. Several times, they thought the shuttle was going into spirals.

"What's going on?" Fel'tak shouted, holding his head as they moved to their seats.

"Isn't it obvious!" Alaric yelled. "It's serious turbulence!"

Alaric thought for a second. Yautja ships were far more advanced then humans and hypothetically they should encounter less resistance but this was getting rougher than a drop in a Cheyenne dropship.

The planet must have some serious storms for this to happen.

"Brace yourselves!" The pilot shouted.

A massive crash was heard as everyone went flying, followed by loud metallic crack and sparks went shooting into the compartment. Alarms went blaring and the lighting cut out in fits and starts. Everyone started heaving themselves up and nursing banged body parts.

"Sod turbulence, this is a crash landing!" Alaric corrected, hurling himself into his seat.

"What the hell did we just hit!" Kra'vyx yelled.

All of the young hunters tried to strap themselves in but the rocking cabin made it nearly impossible to achieve that. Ly'enta was thrown from her seat multiple times while Fel'tak kept losing his grip on the straps. Kra'vyx moved away from his seat to grab Ly'enta and pushed her back to her seat.

"Young ones, brace for impact!" The Pilot yelled back as Mal'fax rammed his harness home.

That was when a thundering crash was heard and the bone-jarring force was enough to make everyone hurl from their seats before another impact caused most of them to impact various walls and each other. The ship then plowed through what ever ground they had crashed into. Not that anyone noticed since they were all knocked out by the violent impact.

* * *

><p>Ja'anya sat in her living room, holding one of Alaric's carvings in her fingers. It was one that he had made especially for her. It was a rendition of the shieldhawk in a silver and bronze pattern that Alaric hoped would give her good luck. A silver chain was attached to the hawk's head.<p>

Ja'anya slipped it around her neck and patted it.

The door to her home slid open and Ja'anya saw her mother step in.

"Are you alright, Daughter?" Zel'tyr asked.

Ja'anya nodded.

"I'm fine, Mother." Ja'anya said as her mother approached.

The Elder huntress saw that Ja'anya was worried over Alaric's safety during the hunt. It was evident in her eyes when she saw Alaric board the shuttle. She sat down next to her daughter.

Zel'tyr saw how Ja'anya was holding her hawk pendant.

"Ja'anya, are you worried about Alaric?" Zel'tyr asked.

Ja'anya couldn't lie about it, not to her own mother. Zel'tyr would find out eventually. She just has a way with these things.

She looked up to her mother.

"Yes." She said.

Zel'tyr wrapped an arm around her small daughter.

"I wouldn't worry about Alaric, my daughter." Zel'tyr assured. "From what we have seen of his abilities, I would be more worried about the prey."

Ja'anya didn't answer her. She was just staring into space. Zel'tyr saw that there would only be one reason for her behavior.

"This is about your father, isn't it?" She asked.

Ja'anya nodded.

"I don't want to lose anyone else to the Kainde Amedha." Ja'anya said, leaning her head on her mother's chest. "I know it is all a part of the hunter's way but I just don't want to lose Alaric like we lost Father."

Zel'tyr brought Ja'anya close to her.

"You and Alaric are... close?" Zel'tyr questioned, already knowing the answer but she had to hear it from her daughter's mouth.

Ja'anya nodded hesitantly, not knowing what her mother's reaction would be that she would bond with a human. She was confused when her mother smiled and gave off a low chuckle.

"My daughter is growing up." She said. "Alaric is a fine male, ooman or not. It would be hard to find another with the same qualities as his."

Ja'anya was surprised by her mother's words. Her mother actually supported her choice?

"You're not upset?" She asked.

"You finally have a partner, how can I be upset?" Zel'tyr said. "I knew what was growing between you two for some time. Kra'vyx more or less picked it up, even if he didn't know it yet."

She chuckled.

"Kal on the other hand is only suspicious to this fact. And I just know he'll overreact when he finds out. The look on his face will be priceless."

Ja'anya looked down and clasped her hawk pendant in relief. Her mother accepting her choice for Alaric as a potential mate lifted a heavy load off her mind.

"How long have you known, mother?" She asked, smiling.

Zel'tyr rolled her eyes in mock thought.

"Since right after his duel with Vyl'kar, when I saw you two asleep in each others arms." Zel'tyr answered, giving Ja'anya a motherly hug "You saw the photo of me and your father?"

Ja'anya nodded. She wondered why her mother left it on the table while they were asleep. She had placed it out of the way without a thought.

"Why did you leave it here." She asked, looking up.

Zel'tyr chuckled

"Because you both reminded me of when I and Kra'vyn were your age." Zel'tyr commented. "Your meeting with Alaric was much like mine."

Ja'anya smiled as she remembered the day she saw Alaric. A lone human who fought and defeated a dozen rabid beasts all by himself. A feat that only a few of the greatest hunters could achieve.

"What will Kal'deris think when he finds out?" Ja'anya asked.

"I wouldn't worry about Kal, my daughter." Zel'tyr assured. "I'll take care of him when the time comes."

Ja'anya gave her mother a final hug, which was answered with one of Zel'tyr's own.

"Feeling better now?" She asked.

Ja'anya nodded. Zel'tyr relinquished her hold on her daughter, got up and walked to the door.

"Thank you, mother." Ja'anya said. "I appreciate your support for us."

"I'll always be here if you need me." Zel'tyr assured her daughter.

The door slid open and Zel'tyr walked out as the door slid shut behind her. Ja'anya felt very relieved now that her mother comforted her and was accepting Alaric as soon-to-be family.

Zel'tyr. A brilliant teacher and a loving mother.

How would she have coped without her mother?

Ja'anya had to resist the urge to just give out a long happy roar so she just purred to herself.

She looked down at her hawk pendant. She brought it up to her mouth and gave it a quick peck.

Alaric, she prayed. Please come back alive.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13- Tomb of ice.

Two weeks earlier.

Mal'kah, the scarred and half blind veteran walked down ice encrusted stone walled tunnels. He was suited up in a fully armored suit and his weapons of choice, two double bladed sickle swords were holstered on his hips. Ice was also encrusted on his armor and on his exposed face.

He was followed by another Yautja, one of a full broad size with imposing bulk wearing thick slab-like armor, fur pelts, and a nasty looking snarl on his face. This was a Yautja heavy hunter, one of the few who were like a stampede, relentless and hard hitting. From the look on his face and his thumping feet on the stone floor, it was evident that this Yautja wasn't happy with what was going on.

The bigger Yautja followed the veteran who had his wrist-comp projecting a three-dimensional map of tunnels. A moving blip indicated their current position. And their destination, a large room on the map was highlighted.

"I don't like this." The Yautja grumbled deeply, following the veteran. "Our lord is starting to get paranoid. Why didn't he just forget about this crap?"

Mal'kah turned his head.

"Once he finds out about something of this matter, nothing will persuade him otherwise." he pointed out, turning his head back forwards. "Besides Qul'dan, this 'ooman' surviving and killing Sil'cais has thrown his idyllic life into an ironic twist."

The hulking Yautja grunted at that last sentence.

"Why is he so obsessed about this ooman?" Qul'dan asked,

Mal'kah sighed. This would be the seventh time he had to explain.

"Because this 'ooman' is the last living descendant of the bloodline." Mal'kah explained yet again. "They were the most powerful warriors of their time, or maybe even all time. Even though the blood has been diluted by many generations of breeding with oomans, it is still as strong as it has ever been." He stopped at a crossroad, judging where to move next from his map display. "And they are not ones to let bygones be bygones. Once someone had killed one of their own, nothing would deter them from obtaining revenge. And that means the ones who culled his clan are as good as dead unless he dies first."

"So that's why we're sent here?" Qul'dan asked. "To sabotage his hunt?"

Mal'kah sighed and held a hand to his face.

"Do you use your brain. Of _course_ that's why we're sent here." Mal'kah exasperated.

Qul'dan grunted, not even caring about the insult.

"I'm not scared of that ooman." Qul'dan said, thumping his fists together. "We killed him before and we'll kill him again, permanently this time."

"That's what Sil'cais thought and you saw what happened to him."

"So what, he was just an expendable asset. And he has finally been expended, a year late though."

Mal'kah then pointed to where they needed to go and they moved down the tunnels. The stone tunnels were incredibly ancient as told by archaic Yautja glyphs on the walls. None of them paid it any heed, as they were not here to find out what they meant. They were here for something more important.

The two hunters continued walking down the ice covered tunnels before arriving at a massive hall. On the stone walls were carvings and glyphs of a time long ago. They all depicted a clan of hunters and their lifestyle. Birth, life, battle and death were recorded into the stone and it all depicted training for battle. In two rows were statues of Yautja warriors brandishing different sets of pole arms or dual weapons in warrior poses. The two Yautja walked to the end of this great hall and arrived at a massive pair of stone doors, measuring fifty feet high. A large carving of a great battle between the Yautja and xenomorphs filled every space. In the middle of the doors was a massive depiction of a showdown, on a mountain plateau between a lone hunter and a great xenomorph of mythical proportions. The hunter in question was wielding an ornate scythe-like weapon in both hands, ready to strike down the gargantuan xenomorph that reared over him.

They both looked at the doors and Qul'dan shook his shoulders. Either he was cold or was not impressed by the sight of this inscribed masterpiece.

"So." Qul'dan said, pointing at the stone doors. "This is where one of the legendary Primarchs is imprisoned?"

Mal'kah touched the stone door with his hand.

"So I'm told." He answered. "The records that do remain are vague. They don't tell exactly what happened on this world or on any other world the bloodline set has foot on."

He placed a hand on the stone door, brushing his fingers on the Yautja engravings.

"And our lord is very intent on keeping it that way."

"Ooh, a sensitive subject?" Qul'dan questioned.

Mal'kah turned his head to the Yautja.

"Very, very sensitive."

Mal'kah examined the door. He looked for the right section of the doors that would open them and that would take some time. Qul'dan looked behind him, watching the dark ice encrusted tunnels. He had been doing that for the whole journey to the door. Like he was expecting an attack from the rear.

"Do you think those oomans know about this place?" He asked. "There were a lot of them on a remote planet like this."

"I doubt it." Mal'kah said. "That is just a small outpost belonging to that 'company' of theirs. Nothing to do with 'xenomorphs' as the oomans call them. Though they have squads of ma-rines with them for protection."

He chipped away ice with his talons and found a hand shaped indentation, lined with a circle of mysterious runes.

"I suppose due to the 'company' and its standing with them, I would be surprised if they didn't have much security." He added, brushing ice from the area to get a clear look.

Qul'dan turned back to the door.

"So, we just open these doors, let the Patriarch out to cause some havoc and leave." He queried.

"Let the Primarch out, yes." Mal'kah answered. "Leave, no. Our lord wants us to record and make sure the ooman and whoever he's with does not leave this planet alive."

Qul'dan perked up when he heard the last sentence.

"I like the sound of that!" He said, thumping his fists together. "Let's get this door open then."

The veteran rolled his eyes, then opened a pouch on his belt and carefully pulled out a glass vial. Inside the vial was glowing Yautja blood. It cast a green glow onto Mal'kah as he just stared at the vial in thought. As if he was contemplating over exactly what would happen its purpose was fulfilled.

Qul'dan watched on and snickered.

"Is the great veteran hunter suddenly not so willing to obey his orders?" Qul'dan jeered.

Mal'kah turned to Qul'dan, giving him a glare that shut the Yautja up. Despite Qul'dan being of a larger build, Mal'kah could still beat him down in single combat.

"Primarchs are no laughing matter." The veteran warned firmly.

He looked back at the vial. He gave it a tap with his talons, watching the blood ripple in its containment.

"There is great power in this blood." He said. "Ironic that it be used to end its line."

He unscrewed the cap off and with a sharp flick of the wrist, hurled the contents into the hand indentation. Glowing blood hurled out in fluid arcs, splattering on the stone and trickled down the doors slowly freezing from the cold.

There was a pause followed by mutter from Qul'dan.

"That it?" He said, disappointed and annoyed. "That's going to open this crypt?"

Mal'kah sighed.

"Just watch." He said.

Then, by some cue, the runes around the hand started to glow blue. Qul'dan went wide eyed in surprise as he and Mal'kah watched the blue light spread throughout the doors like blood pumping through veins.

"Technology of our ancient past." Mal'kah said in admiration. "Our race has lost so much."

Then the sound of grinding stone was heard as the great doors slowly moved apart outwards. Dust and ice went cascading down from above, first like a small trickle but then it started flowing like a deluge.

"It is done." Mal'kah said, discarding the vial and bringing his mask up. "Let's hope the Slayer doesn't tap into his inner strengths."

Qul'dan raised a brow at the last few words

"You mean like him going completely psychotic and slaughtering Sil'cais?" He asked, bringing his own mask up.

Mal'kah hooked up his mask to its fittings and tube with a hiss of gas.

"No. something far more powerful." He said cryptically. "Something that makes his Rage look like a child's tantrum in comparison."

The veteran turned and ran, tapping Qul'dan on the chest as he passed. The hulking Yautja followed and they both activated their cloaking fields, merging with the surrounding darkness. The doors fully opened outwards, the sound of impacting stone echoed in the catacombs. It was then after a period of silence that a loud echoing roar was heard from within the massive void-like chamber that the doors had sealed for untold millennia.

* * *

><p><em>The sounds of fierce fighting roared around Alaric as he vaulted over razor wire and rolling into cover, impacting the concrete barrier with a notable thud. He peered out of cover and saw that the diversion had worked. The Archangels had caught the extremists' attention, firing disciplined volleys from their pulse rifles. The extremists were responding in kind with their own weapons, a mixture of small arms and improvised explosives. Alaric holstered his pulse rifle and pulled from his chest holster his sidearm.<em>

_He held it to his helmeted and masked head in respect to its previous owner as he drew one of his hand axes. With a quick battle prayer in his ancestors' language, he vaulted over the roadblock and charged at the dug in cultists. He fired several high caliber rounds, blasting the head of one cultist into crimson chunks and another lost his throat in a gush of blood. Before any of the cultists had any chance to react, Alaric jumped right on top of them with a loud roar and they didn't stand a chance against his axe._

_Alaric cut down every single one._

_The Angel of Death had reaped some more souls and from the entrance of the base, he saw more streaming towards him._

* * *

><p>Alaric was the first to come around, thanks to his legendary endurance and he groggily roused himself. He saw first of all, despite not being able to see, was that Ly'enta had somehow landed on top of him, straddled across his chest and her mesh covered abdomen was on his face. Alaric carefully pushed her off, took a few needed breaths, and picked himself up. He rubbed his face, cleaning up the war paint that was smudged out of place. Holding his throbbing head, he saw Kra'vyx face down on the deck and Fel'tak had somehow gotten snagged onto the roof, hanging by his foot and was swaying gently. Mal'fax was still strapped in his seat with his head lolling to his right, no doubt knocked senseless by the impact. Their masks were strewn around where they were laying. They didn't have a chance to put them on but it was a relief that they weren't dead from head trauma.<p>

Alaric looked at the state of the shuttle's interior. Sparks were fizzing out of cracked fixtures and bits of the inner hull were loose and hanging precariously. And with great relief, he felt that none of his axes had come loose from their holsters. They were still firmly secured in their places.

If that happened then the shuttle interior would have been turned into likeness a blender pulping up raw meat.

Alaric got up and made his way to the cockpit, watching his footing and picking up his mask. He was going to question the pilot on what had happened.

He shoved the door aside with some difficulty and saw a nasty sight. The pilot had been impaled by a safety support and it was jutting from this back, glowing from his blood that was trickling from his back. The cracked canopy was covered by thick armor plating, which was added protection in case of a crash landing and it had the damage to prove it. The shuttle's controls were smashed beyond any use from the impact and that meant they were stranded on this planet. Alaric walked up and looked for any signs of life.

There was none. Only the glazing grey eyes of the pilot spoke the truth.

'_They're not gonna like this.'_ Alaric thought as he examined the body._'Impact must've pried this bar loose and the other impact jammed it in him. Right in the heart.'_

He reached out and shut the pilot's eyes.

Alaric moved back into the passenger compartment, wondering how to explain and he saw Kra'vyx grunting as he heaved himself up. Ly'enta groaned as she rubbed her stomach and saw blue stains from where Alaric's face was. As Fel'tak came round and noticed that he was the wrong way up, he started fidgeting to try and get loose. Mal'fax was even now struggling to unstrap himself.

"Would one you get me down, if it's not too difficult?" Fel'tak asked, reaching up to his leg and trying to get unstuck.

Alaric walked over and with one tug on the Unblood's arm, pulled Fel'tak down into the deck with a loud crashing thud. Fel'tak groaned in pain as Alaric stood over him and a snicker could be heard from the others.

"How you doing now?" Alaric asked, walking over to help Kra'vyx up.

"Was doing a lot better before you pulled me down." Fel'tak grumbled, picking himself.

The others were heard chuckling at his expense. Fel'tak muttered to himself undignified.

"What happened?" Ly'enta asked as she got up.

"There must have been a problem during re-entry." Mal'fax said as he finally yanked his safety straps off.

Fel'tak looked at him with an irate expression.

"You think?" He said, gesturing to the shuttle's bashed up interior.

"Well, just be thankful we got here in one piece. At least now we can get our hunt underway and get back home as true hunters."

Fel'tak scoffed.

"I don't think we're gonna get back home in this junk pile." He said, stomping the deck with his foot.

He then gave each of the side hatches a tap. Both of the hatches were buckled and caved in from the force of the crash. There was no exit through them.

"Well, the exits are all now indistinguishable from the walls." He added before looking to the rear. "The rear hatch looks intact though."

"Let's have a look where we are, shall we?" Kra'vyx said, walking to the rear hatch, which was still intact.

"Yeah, see if the temple is near here." Mal'fax added.

Kra'vyx hit the release button and the door didn't open. He pressed it a couple more times and still nothing. Obviously, the crash had knocked out all electrics.

He muttered as he pulled the lock release with a loud click followed by the hiss of pressurized air and started pushing the hatch open. The hatch was resisting with considerable force for some reason. Like it was being pushed back at them by some large force on the other side.

Mal'fax came over to help but Kra'vyx waved him off.

"No, I got this. I got this." He said.

Kra'vyx then started putting a little more back into it, his muscles bulging in effort and finally the hatch was starting to creak open like it is under great stress.

The first thing that they all felt when the hatch opened a gap was a piercing jet of freezing wind. Kra'vyx immediately let go of the hatch and grabbed himself as it slammed shut with a loud clang.

"Damn, its cold!" He yelled, rubbing his arms hastily.

Confusion settled on the group.

"Cold? This jungle world is in its summer cycle!" Fel'tak said. "You should be sweltering!"

Alaric slipped his mask on; ushered Kra'vyx out of the way grabbed the hatch and pushed. He grunted as the hatch resisted his advances and after a few shoves it opened a few inches. The freezing wind poured in again, causing everyone to scramble out of the way. Alaric peered through, his face protected by his mask.

What he saw was beyond belief.

For miles around there was nothing but snow. A thick white carpet snow and jagged monoliths of dark ice and rock for as far as the eye could see. The howling winds kicking up snow like thick fog made it difficult to see but Alaric had seen enough to convince him of their current predicament. He let the hatch slam shut with a loud clang.

He looked back at the others with his ice encrusted mask.

"You Yautja are not going to believe this." He said, pointing at his mask.

Alaric told them that their supposed jungle hunt turned out to be set in an ice encrusted world. His mask was evidence of that fact. Either the jungle planet had suffered an improbable ice age or they had been sent to the wrong planet. The latter was the chosen outcome and the outcries were immediate.

"An ice planet!" Mal'fax shouted.

Ly'enta fell back into her seat in disbelief.

"Ice!" She said, not wanting to believe it. "We're stuck on an ice world!"

"Calm down and get a grip on yourselves." Alaric said, wiping his mask.

"Calm down?" Fel'tak exclaimed. "We been sent to the wrong fucking world!"

"And screaming your head off isn't going to get us out of here!" Kra'vyx countered.

"What the hell were the Elders thinking? Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Ly'enta got off her seat and moved for the cockpit. She wanted to hear what the pilot has to say as Alaric rushed to cut her off but failed to stop her.

"Ly'enta, don't go in there!" Alaric warned, just as she went through the doorway.

She gasped as she saw the dead pilot and the beam sticking into his back. The others went to see what was wrong and their responses were about the same. Kra'vyx led a shocked Ly'enta away from the sight. Fel'tak grumbled and muttered at how screwed their situation was as he watched Mal'fax futilely trying to get the console to work.

"Forget it, Mal'fax." Fel'tak said. "The shuttle is dead."

Despite being in a potentially life threatening situation, Alaric was calm, maybe too calm about their situation. But then again, he was used to life threatening situations. It's what being a Slayer was all about.

"This is a textbook case of FUBAR, my friends." Alaric commented, his years of experience as a marine coming forth.

The others looked at him in confusion over the word he just said.

"FUBAR?" Ly'enta said, questioningly. "That's not in the ooman language."

"FUBAR is an abbreviation." Alaric told her. "And it means: Fucked Up Beyond Any Recognition. It's a common descriptive term in the corps. Especially when ever you Yautja or bugs are involved."

Alaric walked out of the cockpit and back into the passenger compartment.

"Just about sum's it up really." Fel'tak muttered. "We're on an ice world, the pilot's dead, the ship is crippled beyond use, and no one knows we're here."

Alaric crossed his arms.

"So, you're just gonna give up?" He asked.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Fel'tak said. "Do you have any ideas, Slayer?"

Alaric cracked his knuckles. Fel'tak's mandibles dropped as he thought Alaric was gong to punch some sense into him.

Alaric crossed his arms as he told them what all life did since the dawn of creation.

"Adapt or die." Alaric answered. "Make your choice."

Alaric walked off while Fel'tak breathed a sigh of relief.

"If we can somehow get off this world, then that would be an achievement." Mal'fax pointed out. "I don't think any Kainde Amedha would be here on this planet anyway."

Ly'enta then said something that caught Alaric by surprise. Something that attributed to his teaching of expecting the unexpected.

"Well, just because we assume there are none on this world, doesn't mean we shouldn't consider the possibility." She pointed out.

"Well said." Alaric applauded.

Ly'enta inwardly beamed at herself at Alaric's thanks as he started looking through compartments as the others watched. He pulled out various objects, some that were broken and others that weren't before tossing them over his shoulder.

"What supplies have we got here?" Alaric questioned. "Check every container and storage space."

Kra'vyx nodded and went about searching some overhead compartments.

"Time to put those survival lessons to use, my friends." He said, with a hint of optimism.

The young initiates went about scavenging what ever they could find that would be of use. They brought out various items they found and arranged them in the middle of the deck. Alaric went about seeing what was suitable for their situation and what was not.

Since Alaric was the most experienced out of all of them put together, the others let him get on with it without interference unless asked for assistance

The fact that they had been outfitted with jungle gear, designed for use in a sweltering jungle was all but useless in an icy wasteland. Alaric was the only one who took a jack of all trades approach. So most of the things he was going to improvise were for them.

Alaric found that several fur lined emergency blankets would serve as protection against the wind and help retain vital body heat. There were plasma cells and their welding torch, one heat source of use. He also found what he assumed was an emergency transmitter of some kind. Kra'vyx confirmed it as that and Alaric placed it in his pack. It wouldn't give a signal in a blizzard like the one they are in but it will come in useful at a later date.

And putting aside a medical kit, emergency supplies, some thick wool-like insulation material, and some other assorted parts, there was nothing else of use.

The group's biggest concern for the moment was finding a proper shelter as soon as possible. The shuttle interior was slowly getting colder by the second. Their armor's internal heating and thermal mesh helped in keeping them warm but they all knew it wouldn't last long against continuous exposure. And if they failed to get out before the shuttle is completely covered with snow then they will be stuck in their icy tomb for eternity.

Alaric tore some wiring from the wrecked consoles and panels and fashioned the blankets into rudimentary cloaks with Ly'enta's help. Kra'vyx and Mal'fax were busy pulling panels down to be used as snowshoes. Fel'tak asked what these things were used for, apart from making them look stupid, to which Alaric answered they are to stop you sinking in the snow too much. He also said they could be used as emergency shielding if they needed to get out of the wind.

They all slipped on their cloaks. The improvised protection covered them quite well. Alaric for one had his completely around him. The others were mostly covered with only a small part of their fronts exposed.

They were as ready as they'd ever be and they couldn't afford to stay in the wrecked shuttle for much longer. They had to get out.

"We can't open the rear hatch unless we fancy getting flash frozen by those winds." Alaric said. "Then again, the snow could be so packed that the hatch won't shift."

"Yeah, you two had to struggle just getting it open a few inches." Mal'fax said.

"What about the cockpit?" Kra'vyx suggested. "It has an emergency canopy release."

He went over to the cockpit before Alaric stopped him.

"Just a second." Alaric said, stopping the others from following before taking an unused blanket.

He walked into the cockpit and hastily pulled out the support from the pilot's back before covering him. Alaric then heaved the stiffening body into the passenger compartment. Kra'vyx and the others watched as he heaved the corpse into the middle of the compartment.

"Just getting him out of the way." Alaric said, carefully tidying the blanket. "Anyone want to say something… a few words in his memory perhaps?"

Ly'enta knelt down by the pilot and spoke a short prayer, thanking him for bringing them down safely, more or less. The others followed suit while Alaric bowed his head.

Ly'enta was always a very spiritual Yautja and she had been complemented as having the makings of a priestess within her. Which was not surprising since she was from a long line of priestesses, the High Priestess was in fact her grandmother.

Alaric then gave a little prayer of his own. He spoke in his ancestor's language in a respectful tone. He then finished by placing two fingers on his forehead before taping the finger on his chest where his heart was.

"What was that?" Kra'vyx asked.

"It sounded like a prayer." Ly'enta added, noting the way Alaric had spoken. "What did it mean?"

Alaric coughed as he translated.

"Honoured Ancestors of the past, watch over the soul of the guardian who safeguarded his charges to his dying breath." Alaric repeated. "Let not his selfless sacrifice be forgotten in the annals of Fate. And that one day, that debt will be repaid."

Fel'tak cocked his head to the others.

"Well, can we get moving before we freeze to death?" He asked. "There's nothing else we can do here!"

Alaric went back into the cockpit, slipping his mask on. The initiates followed suit, lining up in the doorway. Kra'vyx pointed Alaric to the canopy release latch. Alaric grabbed it and he turned his head as the others slipped on their masks.

"Are you all ready?" He asked. "We only have one shot at this."

The young hunters looked to each other. There wasn't any other choice. Heading out there was just as dangerous as staying in the shuttle. But at least out there they had a chance of survival.

They nodded, tightly gripped their cloaks and Alaric pulled the latch.

The cockpit canopy blasted off it's fittings before being carried off several yards by the wind. The group hastily climbed out of the cockpit, tugging their cloaks tightly onto themselves as they felt the brunt of the blizzard's icy claws. They hit the snow floor, sinking a few inches into the snow and regaining their balance on the shifting snow banks. They shuffled away from the shuttle before looking back. The cockpit's interior was covered in a white blanket within seconds.

Alaric surveyed their surroundings quickly with his mask's multiple visions before coming up with a route. The frozen wasteland looked like it was endless in this blizzard but Alaric had been in worst spots before and had the experience to prove it. And he was able to just make out dark shapes in the distance. Possibly mountains.

The cold was stinging at their exposed flesh but at least it wasn't immediately lethal. However, continuous exposure would soon change that.

Alaric turned to the initiates, his hair bands jingling like a wind chime.

"We need to get out of this wind as soon as possible." he told them, raising his voice to be heard on his coms. "I think saw an acceptable area not far from here. Stay close and don't lag behind."

"This snow is playing havoc with our armor!" Kra'vyx shouted over the now, fiddling with his wrist-comp. "Cloaking is shorting out!"

"Save your energy for thermal heating!" Alaric ordered. "Now let's move!"

Alaric took up point, using his great axe as a walking stave with the young initiates following closely. They were all huddled together to conserve what body heat they could. Kra'vyx and Fel'tak had Ly'enta between them while Mal'fax had taken up the rear, blocking them from the wind.

The Yautja, having evolved on a humid jungle planet, were ill suited for the freezing conditions despite what training they'd gone through. Every second spent exposed to the freezing winds was dangerous.

The cloaks Alaric had fashioned were a big help against the wind and the snowshoes helped to keep them stable.

Looking back, they saw that the shuttle had now been completely consumed by the snow. The only indication of anything being there was an irregular mound. A barrow as Alaric called it, a grave of ancient man for the pilot inside.

There was no going back, the only way on was forwards.

* * *

><p>They trudged through the snow for well over half an hour, heading to what looked like a valley that goes down into the planet not far from the crashed shuttle. Away from the freezing winds and that was a good thing.<p>

The ice winds continually blocked their masks with encroaching ice and they had to keep wiping them off. On the windward side of their cloaks, snow had been forming into a thick layer that was growing as fast as it crumbled apart from their movements

They carefully trekked down the shifting snow banks in a loose formation, careful not to cause an avalanche. The howling winds were becoming slightly slower and less violent. The snow here was also becoming more stable and compact. Here and there, they could see a dark rock or two jutting out of the white carpet.

"This sucks!" Fel'tak cursed as he nearly slipped down the slope.

"You have been saying that for the last thirty minutes!" Mal'fax shouted back.

"That's 'cause it's true! I didn't become a hunter to freeze my ass off!"

"Well, at least you breathing out hot air is keeping us warm!"

"Oh, ha ha!"

Alaric didn't pay any heed as he stopped to quickly gain his bearings. Mal'fax looked back behind them, watching the tracks they were leaving behind as they were quickly swallowed up by the blizzard. Ly'enta shivered and huddled closer to the bigger Yautja for warmth.

"This blizzard is like a ravenous beast." Ly'enta said.

"This death world IS a beast." Alaric said, turning to them. "I myself have been on plenty of them. Let's keep moving."

Alaric looked up to the skies and saw that it was now darker then it was when they started and that wasn't good. Being stuck in a blizzard at night was tantamount to a death sentence.

Looking back, he saw Kra'vyx and the others were getting weary and sluggish. The cold was starting to get to the young Yautja. Even he felt a bit light headed and he could feel his limbs going numb. But while he was able to blot the numbing cold out, Kra'vyx and the others were not so lucky.

He saw Ly'enta stumble into the snow and Kra'vyx helped her up. Fel'tak shook his head as a shiver ran through his body. Mal'fax looked like a yeti with the amount of snow on him.

They needed a shelter and they needed it fast.

Alaric looked around for anything that would get them out of the wind.

"Over there." Alaric said, pointing to what was a large ice cliff.

It took the others a minute to see what Alaric was pointing at and it was a welcoming sight. In the face of the snow and ice encrusted cliff face was an opening. A cave.

And a cave is a far more welcoming place to be then in a freezing arctic wasteland. The rest didn't need telling twice as they followed Alaric in direction for the cave.

A cave was the first good shelter they'd seen since the crash.

Alaric reached the mouth of the cave and ushered the others inside, giving them a good shove to be sure. When they all got in, the first thing they all did was shake themselves free from their frozen skin. Great clumps of snow went crumbling off them as they started getting some warmth in their bodies again. The initiates took off the improvised snowshoes, relishing the feel of their feet not being restricted again.

It was dark in the cave, but that didn't matter as long as they had their masks. They could make out the walls, all slick with hard ice. The ground had a thick layer of snow that had been blown in sometime in the past.

That said, their multiple mask visions never captured the detail as the naked eye does. They can only see in one spectrum or the other. Alaric kept his to his normal spectrum.

As the others tried to get warm, Alaric pulled out the plasma torch, and was busily figuring out how it worked. He was answered when a plume of blue fames erupted out of the nozzle, the heat melting the ice on his mask. He set it on the largest flame, the heat emitting from the flames and warming the air around him as he brought it to the initiates.

The heat coming from the flames was a welcome relief. The light given by the torch cast the cave into a blue glow.

"Warm yourselves." He said, placing the torch on the ground, letting the heat spread upwards.

The young initiates wasted no time huddling over the flame. Alaric on the other hand bent down on the snow covered floor and started doing press ups, getting the blood flowing to his limbs again. Kra'vyx noticed what Alaric was doing, remembered something Alaric told him about regaining body warmth and joined in.

"Come on, rookies." Alaric said, now doing press ups with one hand "Get your blood flowing."

The others looked at them and saw Alaric get up and started jogging around the cave, running up to a wall and doing a back flip off it. Mal'fax shrugged and started pumping his arms like a bird. Fel'tak muttered and started to jog around the cave while Ly'enta just stood by the torch, rubbing her arms unhappily. Kra'vyx saw her pouting, or the Yautja equivalent of it, and got up. He walked over and helped move her arms.

"If you don't do this, you'll get frostbite and then your limbs will drop off." Alaric warned as he did a few kicks into the air.

Ly'enta sighed and started to stretch her legs.

After they had all got some warmth back into their bodies, they all took the time to debate on their situation.

"What do we do now?" Kra'vyx asked, clenching his fists.

"Well, there's nothing we can really do except for waiting out the blizzard." Mal'fax said, pointing to the outside.

"Like we have a choice." Fel'tak grumbled.

Alaric looked down further into the cave. It looked like it stretched further then first anticipated. It would be wise to investigate how far the cave went. They wouldn't want any uninvited guests.

"We should check how deep this cave goes." Alaric said.

"But shouldn't we stay here, near to where the shuttle was?" Ly'enta asked. "Wait for help from home to come?"

"Yeah, we have the distress beacon." Kra'vyx suggested.

Alaric shook his head.

"It wouldn't make a difference. This blizzard could go on for days for all we know and trying to send a signal in the middle of one would be futile, even with your tech." He pointed out.

He laid a hand on one of his axes.

"Besides, we don't know if this cave is inhabited or not." He said, looking further into the cave.

The initiates murmured at the prospect of some monstrous creature living in this cave. But, it did mean they could prove themselves as hunters at least.

"He has a point." Mal'fax added. "This could be the home of some great ice beast for all we know."

"Well, I hope so." Fel'tak said, perking up. "I don't want to be stuck here for nothing."

"What have we got to lose?" Kra'vyx asked, thumping his fists together.

The verdict was unanimous and they moved further into the dark cave. Alaric lead from the front with one of his axes at the ready and the others did the same with their weapons.

There was no knowing what could be waiting for them inside but whatever comes , they'll be ready.

That is if they could unsheathe their weapons. Alaric saw that they were struggling to pry them loose. Unlike their weapons, his axes were holstered in loops on his harness and belt, not in scabbards or latches.

"The frost." Alaric lectured with a chuckle. "Sometimes it makes the blade stick."

* * *

><p>The initiates had been walking through the pitch black caves and tunnels for an hour now. The cold wasn't as lethal as before which was good. And so far nothing had attacked them, be it alien or natural predators. They kept their weapons out just in case after finally managing to pry them loose.<p>

Alaric moved with his great axe propped on his shoulder. Kra'vyx had one of his kataras in his fist and thumbing its edge while Fel'tak was casually twirling his stave in his fingers. Ly'enta had a chainwhip wrapped around her arm and Mal'fax brought up the rear with his hammer at the ready.

Despite walking for nearly an hour now with no sign of any ambush, Alaric insisted they keep their weapons drawn just in case.

"How much further does this tunnel go?" Ly'enta asked, looking behind her.

"Hard to say." Kra'vyx said, checking out his map display on his wrist-comp.

Using echolocation, he saw that the tunnel was just going on and on. And that wasn't a helpful thing.

"I don't know what will kill us first, the cold, or the boredom." Fel'tak mused.

"Fel'tak, shut up and keep moving." Mal'fax ordered.

"Look, a light up ahead." Alaric said, pointing ahead.

In the distance was sunlight or at least what looked like sunlight. Kra'vyx saw on his map that the tunnel was indeed ending ahead of them. And that was incentive enough for them to move at a faster pace.

What they saw when they reached the end of the tunnel filled them with a sense of jaw dropping awe.

"By the gods." Ly'enta murmured.

They were in a massive ice cavern. Fluid lines and curving slopes gave the whole area an organic appearance. Like this cavern grew from the very body of the planet. The surface of the ice was all polished bright like mirrors, glinting and illuminating the entire cavern. Looking up, the group saw sunlight flowing through a fissure in the cavern roof. It was angelic seeing the rays of light coming through.

Beneath this planet's harsh exterior was a place of beauty.

From the entrance to the cavern, they saw that they were on a cliff edge and curiously, they walked to the edge.

At the edge of the ledge, they looked down and saw a dark abyss beneath them. The light from the caverns lit down for several hundred meters until there was a dark void at the bottom. Kra'vyx picked up a piece of reflecting ice and dropped it down.

They watched the piece fall helplessly into the blackness, flashing as it reflected the light. Then, the void swallowed it up.

"Wouldn't want to fall down there." Kra'vyx said.

A faint impact was heard echoing from below. Then multiple impacts were heard as the ice went bouncing of the walls below.

"It's still going." Fel'tak pointed out.

Then the banging stopped. They couldn't tell if it reached the bottom or went out of earshot. Their masks' audio enhancers couldn't pick it up.

"That has got to be over two kilometers at least." Alaric estimated.

"Let's keep going." Mal'fax said, heaving his hammer and walking away from the ledge.

Alaric got up and tapped Mal'fax on the back in recognition. They moved away from the ledge and move along the cavern wall. As much as this place seemed more forgiving then outside, they needed to find a more suitable location. This area didn't leave much room to maneuver.

Kra'vyx who was moving on point then noticed something.

"Look at these." Kra'vyx said, pointing to the snow covered ground.

The others gathered to see what it was Kra'vyx found. There were prints in the snow.

Footprints.

And they were made by human boots.

Alaric smiled behind his mask as he knelt down to examine.

"This is a good sign." He said, tracing his finger over the prints.

"Oomans are on this world?" Kra'vyx asked, looking around. "We're not alone, then."

Fel'tak looked around.

"What are oomans doing here anyway?" He questioned.

"Probably a research or mining expedition." Alaric guessed. "At least now, we know we're not the only ones here."

Alaric checked the imprint patterns and he nodded.

"Spec Op boots." He clarified as he checked the other prints "Marines and civilians."

He got up.

"There must be something big here if Spec Ops is involved." He postulated.

He then saw something not far from them. Something suspicious and the tracks were leading to it.

"Hold up." Alaric said, raising a fist.

The others stopped as Alaric cautiously walked towards a rectangular mound in the snow next to a tunnel leading out from the cavern. He gave the mound a prod with his axe and he heard a clang of metal coming from within. He holstered his axe and started brushing the snow off the top of the mound. What he found was an unpleasant surprise.

It was a human design supply crate that was buried under the snow and painted on top was a yellow angular W joined with a white Y. Underneath this all too familiar logo was a paradoxical tag line.

_Building better worlds_.

"Weyland-Yutani." Alaric cursed. "Figures."

Kra'vyx and the others looked at the symbol with interest. They looked at each other and started getting excited.

Weyland Yutani was known among the Yautja for one thing and it was something convenient to their lifestyle.

"I know that name!" Kra'vyx said, remembering what veteran hunters always boasted about. "The other hunters say that when ever this 'Company' is around, Kainde Amedha are always abundant."

"Then we can earn our place after all." Fel'tak beamed.

Alaric thought otherwise. He had learned and studied all of the three-way encounters documented by the Corps. The incidents on LV-201 and Freya's Promise were prominent examples. Despite what reports on those incidents say, regardless on how many survived, the only true winner was death.

"It's always the same." Alaric sighed. "The Company tries to harness the aliens, the aliens break out and hive everything, the Corps get sent to clean up the mess and the Yautja swoop in for a hunt. The result: a total bloodbath for anyone involved."

"A bloodbath for you humans but a glorious hunt for us." Fel'tak countered.

Alaric carefully opened the crate, expecting a facehugger or something equally nasty to pop out and looked inside. With sudden enthusiasm, he started rummaging around inside and pulled out all sorts of equipment. He pulled out three ice picks, a flare gun in its holster and flare shells, coils of high tensile rope and thermal packs.

He handed the thermal packs to Kra'vyx and the others.

"Crack 'em!" Alaric told them happily.

The Yautjas looked at the beanbag thermal packs with confusion.

"How the hell do you crack a bag?" Kra'vyx asked

Alaric sighed and took one from him and bent it sharply in his hands. A sharp crack was heard and Alaric handed it back. To the young Yautja's surprise and delight, the pack started to get warm and within a few moments, it was fully heating his hand.

The others felt the pack, felt the heat it was giving out and eagerly cracked theirs. Alaric watched as the young hunters began to attach them to their armor while giving of purrs of comfort and delight.

Alaric picked up the other equipment from the crate, holstering the coils of rope around his shoulder. He then holstered the flare gun to his belt, not before loading a flare first. He handed two of the ice picks to Kra'vyx and Fel'tak before holding the last one for them to show.

"This is an ice pick." He explained, pointing to the relevant parts. "Front end is used for scaling ice falls and the back is used as a hammer for hammering in pegs. In a fight, they can be used as effective anti-armor weapons."

He then struck an ice wall to demonstrate how to use them. The pick bit deep into the ice and took some wrenching to get it free.

"Guaranteed to ruin anyone's day." He said, holstering it in his belt.

Kra'vyx and Fel'tak both flurried with their picks to get a feel for them. They both found that the tools were both simple and utilitarian, albeit small in their hands, before holstering them to their belts.

"Let's follow these tracks." Alaric said, pointing in the right direction. "We might not be far from a camp or facility."

"Is that wise?" Ly'enta asked.

Alaric pulled out the emergency transmitter and casually juggled it in his hand.

"There might be a relay dish we can hook this up to." He explained as he holstered it. "One powerful enough to penetrate the blizzard."

"In that case, let's be one with the wind." Kra'vyx said, punching buttons on his wrist.

Kra'vyx's cloaking field activated and he vanished like a ghost, only a faint reflecting form of him in his place. The others activated theirs and Alaric did the same. It felt weird to be like a ghost or as close as you could to one.

They walked over to the tunnel entry and Alaric paused. He thought he heard a soft fluttering of wings. Like something flying very close behind them. He turned around quickly expecting something to appear. There was nothing. The others noticed that he stopped and was looking around the cavern.

"What is it, Alaric?" Mal'fax asked.

Alaric drew his great axe and hefted it.

"Did you see something?" Kra'vyx asked, bringing his katara to bear.

Alaric turned to them, gripping his axe securely.

"I don't know, but I think we're being watched" Alaric said.

* * *

><p>What they didn't know was that they were already being watched from the start. Watching their violent impact into the snow banks and viewing their struggling march across the frozen plains on a large snow dune was Mal'kah, Qul'dan and a retinue of fully armed and armored hunters. They were all wrapped in snow white fur pelts, blending into the blizzard apart from Qul'dan who wore black fur out of pride.<p>

Mal'kah crouched as he watched the small group through his mask's zoom function and image intensifier.

"Damn, I kinda hoped that the crash would've saved us the trouble." Mal'kah said, as he saw one of them stumble in the snow. "But then I think the cold will finish them off."

Qul'dan shook off the snow that had been building up on him. His black fur pelts stood out for a second before the blizzard blotted it out again.

"Where's the sport if the prey is killed before we kill it?" Qul'dan asked, slightly offended by the prospect.

Mal'kah coughed slightly, getting the hulking Yautja's attention.

"Well, the pilot didn't survive the crash so at least they can't leave this planet." He added. "You can have all the fun you want with them." He turned to the hunter. "But this 'ooman' must die at any cost."

"Don't worry about that." Qul'dan said, cracking his knuckles. "When I'm finished with him, he won't have a living cell in his body. And those kids won't stand a chance against me."

Mal'kah clicked his mandibles when he heard the last sentence.

"Like what you and Xyl'tai did to the ooman's child?" He asked pointedly.

Qul'dan merely cracked his knuckles in response as Mal'kah resumed his watch over the initiates.

"'A waste of good genes' as she so aptly said." Qul'dan quoted.

That day when they struck Alaric and his family, there were some things that the veteran thought had gone too far. But then, they were given the leave to abuse them however they wanted before killing them, as it was to be their only pardonable chance. However, Mal'kah had the honor of a hunter to not indulge in those acts of sadism and to only go for the root of their lord's problem.

Alaric himself.

The veteran watched as the small group moved into a cave.

"They found shelter." He acknowledged. "They're doing well, for initiates."

Qul'dan thumped his fists together and broad wristblades shot out. He signaled to the hunters to follow him but the veteran turned to them and raised a fist, halting them.

"Not yet." He ordered them. "We have to gauge their strengths first.

Qul'dan protested with annoyed grunts.

"Strengths!" He asked. "They're pups for fuck's sake!"

Mal'kah swept a fist around and caught Qul'dan in the face, knocking his mask off and exposing his face to the razor winds. The other warriors murmured as Qul'dan scrambled to retrieve his mask before it was buried under the drifts. The other hunters stayed motionless in the snow, not even reacting to their superiors' blunder.

"You are forgetting the main reason why we are here." Mal'kah elaborated before stating the problem. "Alaric, who happens to be the last of the bloodline of Cetanu."

Mal'kah turned back to the cave as Qul'dan took the name into his head in puzzlement.

'_Cetanu? _He thought._ The Black warrior? No, that's impossible.'_

He stood up, retracted his blades and slipped his mask on.

"So what does the veteran suggest?" He said, dryly as he adjusted his mask.

Mal'kah turned back to the cave.

"Let the Primarch and it's kin do their work." Mal'kah answered.

* * *

><p>The cloaked initiates moved swiftly down the winding tunnels, following the tracks. Alaric had given them some advice as to not engage the humans for any reason until they knew exactly what was going on here. He was met with protests, stating that humans from the Company deserved to die for what they do to their race. Alaric quoted to them 'Never judge the individual by the whole'.<p>

Alaric determined that if they could find the humans then they could use their equipment to call for help. That is if they would let them, due to obviously poor relations with the Yautja. Still, with Weyland-Yutani on this planet, discretion would be the better part of valor.

They didn't want to catch the Company's 'interest'.

But things were about become deeper in mystery. And that mystery came from a gruesome discovery

Ly'enta was the first to notice it when she tripped over something buried in the snow. She hit the ground hard, her cloaking field flickering and fazing. The others uncloaked and stop to see what happened.

"Sorry, I tripped over something." Ly'enta said, deactivating her cloak field.

She didn't get a reply as the others were occupied looking at something. Something that had latched on her leg.

"What is it?" She asked, puzzled.

"I think someone took a fancy to you." Fel'tak said, tilting his head to her leg.

She looked behind and saw a disturbing sight. A frozen armored hand was caught around her ankle. She gingerly got her ankle free, the frozen fingers cracking as she shuffled back and saw that the arm it belonged to was buried under a mound of snow.

"By the gods." She said in disgust.

"Just a second." Alaric said, walking up to the mound.

Alaric brushed the snow off and saw a grizzly sight. It was the body of a marine, what was left of him, buried in the snow and it looked like he had been forced through an industrial shredder to put it lightly. His whole blood soaked body, armor, equipment and all, was ripped apart by some great force. A pulse rifle was a few inches from him, jagged tears in its frame and barrel.

But the remains of his face were the most telling. The look of utter fear and terror at what ever did this to him.

Whatever did this much damage to a marine was fast, large, and utterly lethal.

"I'm no expert, but I'd say this ma-rine was boned like a fish." Fel'tak said, kneeling down and giving the corpse an investigative poke.

The body wasn't completely frozen as shown when his finger sank into the flesh rather then pressing into ice. Alaric smacked his hand away, his marine upbringing coming into play.

"Show some respect for the dead!" He chastised.

Fel'tak backed off as Alaric ushered the others out of the way before he crouched down to examine the body. Fel'tak grumbled as he and Mal'fax kept a lookout for dangers. Ly'enta and Kra'vyx watched as Alaric did some forensic investigation.

Sometimes the attacker can be identified simply by examining the damage they inflict.

Alaric thoroughly examined the corpse in a short amount of time, checking each of the wounds in turn.

"This death is no more than an hour or two old." He evaluated, holding a shredded arm up. "Cold but hasn't frozen solid completely."

He pointed to the deep lacerations in his chest and limbs while Kra'vyx and Ly'enta looked closer.

"Something bladed or clawed had shredded him with nearly enough force to rip him apart. The ribcage is cleanly sliced through, his armor did little to absorb the impact and his lungs and heart were nearly cleft in twain. Death was instantaneous, mercifully."

He then saw bites marks, huge chunks of flesh and organs missing in his abdomen.

"And he has been chewed on." He added in disgust.

"Was it Kainde Amedha?" Kra'vyx asked, crouching next to him.

Alaric shook his head as he laid the arm back down.

"I don't think so." He said. "It's similar to what a Bug would do but this is completely different. It's like they weren't focusing on grabbing hosts and just butchering them instead."

Indeed, the aliens main evolutionary goal is the survival of their queens and their species and that meant grabbing more hosts to increase their numbers. Nothing else mattered unless their queens deemed it so.

"Well, at least this gives us something to work with." Ly'enta added.

Mal'fax looked down at the corpse.

"So, how do you think the ma-rine died?" He asked.

Alaric stood back up.

"I'm guessing that he got rushed when his back was turned." The Slayer guessed.

Fel'tak and Mal'fax looked around cautiously.

"That's how they fight." Mal'fax pointed out. "Strike fast and without warning."

"And that's what makes the hunt so exciting." Fel'tak added.

"Unless they kill you first." Alaric countered.

Alaric looked around the tunnel, looking for a way that aliens could use to ambush their prey. There were no tunnels or crevices that an alien could use to hide. In fact, there was no way that an alien would be able to sneak up on the marine without him knowing in an illuminated tunnel like this.

Alaric saw that the marine had indeed fired his weapon when he saw bullet holes in the ice and a large crater from a grenade missing its target. And that was strange.

Nothing could evade that without taking damage in a confined tunnel.

"This is strange." He said, discovering an odd fact. "He wasn't ambushed, he was charged head on."

"Kainde Amedha don't charge head on unless there is a swarm." Ly'enta insisted.

"Yet there are no tracks." Alaric pointed out. "Not even marks on the ceiling."

The others looked up and it was true. There were no claw marks from where any creature would need a foothold.

Alaric then went over a plausible scenario that would fit the result, using all the facts they saw so far.

"I think this marine was patrolling this tunnel, alone." He postulated, pointing to where they were going. "Then he saw something fast coming towards him." He moved to where the bullet holes lined the ice wall. "He managed to fire off a burst or two before firing a grenade." He felt along the bullet holes. "Whatever ever attacked him weathered that punishment without pause." He moved back to the corpse. "Then he was rammed, forced to the ground, and torn to shreds."

He picked up a knife from its torn shoulder holster. He examined it, noting the lack of use in the fight. He then moved the corpse's head around and saw the marine's name stenciled on and doused in frozen blood.

"Private Lewis here was dead the moment it laid claws on him." He finished. "Didn't even draw his knife. Then he was buried to hide the evidence. Very intelligent to do that."

He then noticed blood at the back and he carefully tilted the corpse's head around to take a look and saw a gruesome sight. There was a large ragged hole the size of a fist punched in the back of the helmet with bits of splintered skull lining it.

A very distinctive calling card.

"Bugs." Alaric confirmed to the initiates before taking a closer look and he cocked his head in confusion. "And they did a no-brainer?"

"No-brainer?" Kra'vyx said.

Alaric then pulled the head up and shone a light from his mask into the hole. There was nothing inside the skull, only blood and cranial fluid lining the inside. Kra'vyx knelt down, looking in the empty cavity in curiosity. The others were merely disgusted at the fact.

"No brain." Alaric showed. "Sucked clean out of his skull."

The others then had a look out of curiosity.

"Sickening." Mal'fax said.

"Odd." Fel'tak added.

"Do Kainde Amedha do that?" Ly'enta asked, disgusted at the fact. "They never told us about behavior like that."

"This is a new one for me." Alaric told her.

He sheathed the knife into his belt and gently laid the head back down. He then checked for anything of use, only to find that the knife was the only thing of any value. Then out of habit from his marine days he yanked the dog-tags from the corpse.

"This day is getting weirder by the minute." Kra'vyx said, getting up and rubbing the ice from his masked face.

"Yeah." Fel'tak added. "First we get battered by a crash landing, then freezing our asses off in the snow and now we got some brain sucker lurking around in these caves."

Alaric got up, placing the tags into a pouch.

"I think it would be prudent to terminate whatever did this with extreme prejudice." Alaric said, looking down the dead marine. "I think the evidence can speak for itself."

"Our point exactly." Mal'fax said, hefting his hammer to illustrate his point.

Ly'enta felt that they stayed around here for long enough. She had been looking around alertly since seeing the corpse.

"We should leave before whatever did that decides to come back." She suggested. "Or if it has friends with it."

"That would be wise." Mal'fax added. "There's nothing else we can do here.

"Well, at least we know what this thing is capable of." Kra'vyx said.

They activated their cloaks and proceeded down the tunnel, following the tracks towards where the humans might be gathering.

And this time, they were keeping a sharp lookout every step of the way.

* * *

><p>While things were turning into a living hell for the group of initiates, things were continuing as normal back home on Lai'kairis.<p>

Ja'anya was busy doing one thing that she loved doing aside from hunting. And that was watching over the young children. Something which suited her small size and the children perfectly.

She sat on a cushion and watched as the children played in their designated play area, making sure that nothing got out of hand. Especially when they were all playing 'Alaric the Slayer'. Boys and girls of varying ages darted around the place, attack and parrying with their sticks and all painted up.

Ja'anya couldn't help smiling while some of the other caretakers rolled their eyes.

Truthfully, she was secretly daydreaming about the day when Alaric and she would officially become a pair, though Alaric had reservations about that ever happening. Her mother and brother would approve but she was not sure that Kal'deris would. She hoped that she and Zel'tyr would be able to persuade him otherwise.

But watching the children also brought up another thing in her mind.

'_Would Alaric ever want to have another child after so painfully losing his son? Would it even be possible for her to conceive?'_

The two children that Ja'anya so fondly knew walked up to her. They saw that she was daydreaming about something and hadn't noticed them. The boy then gave her a few prods from his stick, snapping her out of it.

Ja'anya looked down and smiled.

"Hi, Ja'anya" They both said.

"Hi to you, too" Ja'anya greeted back, looking at their blue streaked faces. "I see you two are having fun."

"This is a fun game, especially since we met Alaric first."

"Tyl'mak, Syl'vyr, I hope you know that what Alaric does is not a game. I don't want you two getting carried away."

The two children merely beamed at her in response.

They then noticed the shining shield-hawk pendant around her neck. Tyl'mak couldn't resist grabbing it. Ja'anya was yanked down unexpectedly as the two children looked at the pendant with inquisitive in their bright eyes.

"Where did you get that, Ja'anya?" He asked with wide eyes.

"It's pretty." Syl'vyr added.

"Alaric made it for me." She told them, adjusting to her position. "It's a shield-hawk. A protector."

"Protector?"

"It alerts its master to hidden dangers."

Tyl'mak handed the pendant to his sister and she looked at it with awe.

"Does it have a name?" She asked.

Ja'anya thought for a second. She didn't think of that but then she remembered the only name Alaric ever called one of these.

"Alaric called it Aegis." She explained, as she gently took it out of the child's grasp. "It means 'Shield' and a shield is used to protect yourself."

"You mean those big circles that oomans stick on your arm?" Tyl'mak asked.

Ja'anya nodded.

"It suits the shield-hawk perfectly." Ja'anya added.

Footsteps were heard as another huntress came walking over.

"You can leave now Ja'anya, I'll take over." The huntress said.

Ja'anya nodded up at the huntress before turning to the children.

"I have to go now." She said. "You two take care of yourselves."

"Bye Ja'anya." They both said before running off to resume their game

The huntress in charge then spoke aloud as Ja'anya got off the cushion and walked to the door.

"Come on you lot. Put those sticks away and wash yourselves." The huntress ordered

A loud chorus of disappointed moans were heard coming from the children as Ja'anya left the play area.

"Don't argue!" The huntress said firmly.

Ja'anya shut the door behind her and sighed contently. She then walked down the street, her pendant glittering in the light. Now that her shift was over for the day what should she do next? Should she head over to medical wing and help out like her father before her or should she go spar with one of the other huntresses.

'_No.'_She thought. _'It wouldn't be the same without Alaric here.'_

In fact, that was the only reason she would spar so that Alaric would be there to watch. And she loved sparring with him. Especially when she pinned him to the ground.

Then again, she would be contacted if the healers needed extra help.

She then decided to pay Elder Kal'deris a visit and turned briskly to the right direction.

* * *

><p>Kal'deris was at his desk, busily attending to his new smart disk. It was to replace the one that Alaric had sliced through during his arrival and Kal'deris had to wait for months before it was completed. Kal'deris had always preferred disks and had accomplished many daring feats during his younger days to earn the title of Diskmaster.<p>

Sitting in front of him was Zel'tyr in her ornate robes. She was discussing the next groups of initiates to her academy. Kal'deris listened as he thumbed the disk's edge.

His attention to his disks caught the door to his sanctum opening and Ja'anya stepping through.

"Ja'anya, how are you?" He greeted.

Zel'tyr turned to her daughter.

"Finished caring for the young ones for today?" She asked

"Yes, mother." Ja'anya replied, sitting down next to her mother.

Kal'deris started to polish his disk, bring up a cloth.

"I see playing 'Alaric the Slayer' is still popular." He said. "I saw some pups with blue faces running around outside."

Zel'tyr added to that.

"I have never known an ooman to influence our kind so much." She said. "Then again, he is a remarkable warrior, defeating a notorious Bad Blood single handedly."

Kal'deris turned his eye to her.

"With a temperament like his, it's hard not to pity his opponent." He mused before returning to his disk. "Then again, Bad Bloods deserve no pity."

He looked at the time.

"He and Kra'vyx must be well into their hunt now." He guessed, be fore chuckling. "It won't be long before they have females all over them."

Zel'tyr clicked her mandibles.

"I don't know, Alaric, already has quite the following for an ooman." She pointed out.

Ja'anya shuffled on her cushion. Her mother talking about Alaric being such a great warrior was subtly hinting towards Ja'anya's and Alaric's relationship. And Kal'deris wasn't picking it up yet. He was too busy polishing his disk to pay attention.

Maybe this would be the right time to break the news to Kal'deris since he was in a good mood.

"Mother, isn't there something we should tell Kal'?" Ja'anya hinted.

Kal'deris raised an eye when he heard Ja'anya.

"Tell me what?" He asked.

"Kal'deris, there is something you should know..." Zel'tyr started

A beeping chime was heard coming from Kal'deris' desk unit

"Wait a second, Zel' Theres a transmission coming through." Kal'deris said, looking at the unit. "And it's urgent."

Kal'deris punched in some buttons on his pad and a holographic screen projected between them. After a few moments of static, a clear picture was shown. It was a hunter, one of the few who resided on their hunting world for initiates. The expression in his posture and eyes should that he was concerned a great deal about something.

"Mor'gyn, what is the meaning of this?" Kal'deris addressed the veteran hunter. "I was in the middle of some private issues."

The hunter rubbed his dreadlocks.

"My apologies, Elder. But it's Initiate Shuttle Alpha." The hunter said, apprehensively. "There's no other way to say it but... they haven't arrived yet. They're overdue twelve hours now."

Kal'deris, Zel'tyr and Ja'anya was puzzled by the message. They hadn't arrived after all this time?

"What do you mean 'They haven't arrived'?" Kal'deris asked.

"Just that, Elder. They haven't made planetfall and we've tried to contact them to see why but nothing got through."

"So, you don't know where they are?"

"Nobody here knows where they are. We have been sending patrols all over the planet in case they landed somewhere else but have not seen any trace of them. We even contacted our orbital cruiser and nearby ships but not one has crossed paths with the shuttle."

Kal'deris was shocked by the news but not as shocked as Zel'tyr and Ja'anya. Zel'tyr's knuckles were already going white and Ja'anya clasped her pendant. Her mandibles clicked nervously.

"Let me check something." Kal'deris said, bringing up a separate holo-screen.

He then punched in keys in sequence bringing up the shuttles flight path. He watched the simulation as the shuttle left Lai'Kairis. Everything looked normal until the halfway point where, inexplicably, the shuttle's locater beacon suddenly blipped off.

Kal'deris' disk slipped out of his grip and embedded itself into his desk with a thunk.

"That can't be!" He said, "Their signal just vanished!"

He turned to the hunter on the first screen.

"Send out a ship to investigate their last position, immediately." He commanded.

"Yes, Elder." The hunter replied bowing his head.

The screen blipped off. Kal'deris started punching in keys and runes on his pad, bringing up multiple windows.

"Kal, what's going on?" Zel'tyr asked with slight distress in her voice. "What happened to the shuttle?"

Kal'deris unstuck his disk and placed it on its display stand. He was distressed as much as she was. Kra'vyx was Kra'vyn's son and Kal'deris would be damned if he let anything happen to the young Yautja.

"Our initiate's shuttle had been diverted by someone." He explained "I'm going to send out patrol ships to every possible destination along their last known route. Something odd is going on."

"What about Alaric and Kra'vyx?" Ja'anya added. "Are they even all right?"

Zel'tyr saw that her daughter was getting agitated and upset at these distressing news. Kal'deris gestured to her to calm down.

"Look Ja'anya, I'll do everything I can but this is out of our hands for the moment." Kal'deris assured her. "We don't have any idea where the shuttle even went."

The holographics then projected three of the other elders. Some looked like they were in the middle of business.

"Elders, we have a problem." He started. "One of our initiate shuttles went missing."

The elders looked puzzled. One of their shuttles had been diverted from the hunt? Impossible. That was not possible without their direct orders.

"That's not possible." The first, a grizzled veteran of the hunts, scoffed. "No one here gave such an order!"

"Well, someone gave the order because no one below the title of Elder can authorize it." Kal'deris stated. "And I sure didn't because of personal reasons."

"Which shuttle was diverted?" Another Elder asked, a female whose robes indicated that she was head of the medical caste.

"Shuttle Alpha. It has Zel'tyr's son on board and the ooman, Alaric."

The last Elder, the pompous one who had scoffed at Alaric's abilities during his clan rites then did the action of dusting his hands clean.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of." He said without remorse.

Ja'anya, outraged by the elder's attitude to this crisis, forced her way into view, shoving a surprised Kal'deris out of the way.

"That's Alaric and my brother you are talking about!" She said in outraged disgust as Kal'deris regained his composure.

The Elder was unrepentant. He had despised Alaric the moment he'd arrived on Lai'Kairis.

"Good riddance, that ooman has humiliated our warriors long enough." The Elder replied with disdain.

He then noticed the shield-hawk around Ja'anya's neck.

"And his influences are spreading like a virus." He added.

Ja'anya would have lashed out at the screen in anger at the Elders disrespect if Kal'deris hadn't quickly ushered her out of the way and Zel'tyr took her daughter in her arms.

"You should keep your feisty daughter on a tighter leash, Zel'tyr." The Elder added venomously.

Zel'tyr just gave the Elder a glare before Kal'deris came into view.

"Zel'tyr, take Ja'anya out of here." He ordered before turning back to the Elders. "We need to investigate, immediately."

Ja'anya was led out by Zel'tyr as Kal'deris briefed the elders on the problem. And they could definitely hear that elder's spiteful tone towards Alaric. They stepped outside and sat down on a low bench.

Zel'tyr rubbed her eyes.

"Only with my son does simple things get complicated." She sighed.

She looked down at Ja'anya and saw that she was sniffing. Like she was going to break down. Zel'tyr brought her daughter close to her. Ja'anya laid her head on her mother's side.

"It's alright, my daughter." Zel'tyr comforted her daughter.

"Mother, we have no idea where they could be." Ja'anya said. "They might be on a world of fire for all we know."

"We don't know that."

"And that is what's making it hurt more. We don't know if they're even safe."

Zel'tyr brought Ja'anya's head up to face her.

"My daughter, your father had gone to many hostile worlds for vital medicines, you know that." Zel'tyr told her. "He knew full well that he could die on those worlds, but that didn't stop him. And I don't think Alaric will let that stop him either. And Kra'vyx, well, he always finds a way."

Ja'anya remembered what Alaric told her last night, their last night together.

'_We'll make it back, Ja'anya. That's a promise.'_

Ja'anya clasped her shield-hawk pendant as the words echoed in her mind. It glinted in the light, catching her mother's attention. She looked at the pendant.

Zel'tyr wondered what the hawk meant.

"The bird around your neck, what is it?" She asked, hoping to divert Ja'anya from her train of thought.

Ja'anya looked down to her pendant.

"A Shield-hawk." Ja'anya said. "It protects its master from hidden dangers."

"Does it have a name?" Zel'tyr asked, gently clasping the pendant.

"Alaric calls it Aegis."

Zel'tyr brought her daughter close.

"Then let's hope Aegis will protect Alaric during this crisis." Zel'tyr assured her daughter. "Alaric and the others will find a way back."

Ja'anya rested her head on her mothers chest.

"I know he will, Mother." She said before smiling. "He doesn't know how to give up."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14- Archangels and demons.

Someone on the ice planet was about to give up, and it wasn't Alaric, not even by a long shot. The group of initiates continued walking down the tunnel, which was now starting to be obstructed by snowy mounds, cloaked and ever vigilant against possible attackers as they followed the tracks. They had to maintain a constant vigilance since Fel'tak kept voicing his opinions on their current state.

Fel'tak had been doing nothing but griping and complaining about how he hadn't become a hunter to freeze his ass off, or to demand to know whether or not this was some sick joke that the Elders had forced upon them. He for one had intended to go in, prove himself, and go home, no questions asked. But now he was stuck on an ice ball with no conceivable way off it and no one at home had any idea that they were gone.

Alaric was a few paces ahead of the growing tensions, taking point as usual but his mask's audio enhancers kept track of the bickering.

"This sucks!" Fel'tak whined.

"Oh, shut up!" Mal'fax barked, his dreadlocks whipping about his mask as he spun his head towards Fel'tak.

"You have been saying that for the last hour!" Ly'enta said, holding her head in exasperation.

Everyone was coming close to punching Fel'tak in the face. Not only was he causing tension in the group, he was also giving away their position. And in a hostile environment that was something that invites death.

Alaric, for the most part was resisting the urge better then the other initiates. Mostly because he would knock Fel'tak out with a single punch and then drag him by the dreads the rest of the way if he kept complaining.

Alaric sighed and wiped some ice from his mask's visor.

"Fel'tak, we just keep following the tracks until we get there." Alaric instructed in a calm but annoyed tone.

Fel'tak scoffed and kicked the snow in frustration. Snow plumed through the air, causing his and his fellows cloak fields to short out and crackle.

"Keep following the tracks?" He asked as their cloak fields shifted and resumed. "These tracks are leading us to the middle of nowhere!"

Mal'fax clicked his mandibles in mock thought and holding a finger under his jaw.

"That's odd… didn't we land in the middle of nowhere?" He pondered. "And now you're arguing about us moving away from the middle of nowhere."

"Shut up!" Fel'tak barked at Kra'vyx. "I had enough of your philosophical..."

He strained to think of something to say so he looked to Alaric.

"What's a suitable word?" He asked.

"Bullshit." Alaric answered. "You should know; since you've been spewing a_lot_ of it long enough."

Fel'tak growled angrily for having falling for Alaric's little insult. Mal'fax gave off a hearty laugh at Fel'tak's expense.

Ly'enta rubbed her arms to get some warmth back into them.

"With you two constantly bickering, it's a wonder none of the oomans know we're here." Ly'enta said, flexing her chain whip.

"Or what ever killed that ma-rine." Mal'fax added before turning to Kra'vyx. "What do you think, Kra'vyx?"

Kra'vyx was silent during the trek. It was clear he was thinking about other things then just their situation. Alaric saw this and slowed down to let Kra'vyx catch up.

"What's wrong, Kra'vyx?" Alaric asked, walking up to the young Yautja.

Kra'vyx brought his cloak tighter around himself.

"How long have we been gone from Lai'kairis?" He asked. "We should have been back home by now. Mother's going to be worried and I dread to think about how Ja'anya is reacting."

Alaric gave the young Yautja a reassuring pat on the back. In a war, it was important to keep the soldier's morale up and even more so in a survival situation. Loss of morale weakened the spirit and ultimately destroyed the will to survive.

"Don't think about what happened in the past." He told him. "What's done is done. Concentrate on how to survive in the here and now. You keep thinking about getting back home to Ja'anya and Zel'tyr and we will get back."

'_I made a promise to Ja'anya that we'd make it back.'_ He thought. _'And I don't intend to break that promise.'_

"Well, it's easy for you to say. You've done this sort of thing since you were a pup."

That all too familiar memory of the incident when he was seven popped into his head but he quickly blotted it out. He didn't have time for that.

"Yes." He said, hesitantly as he looked forward. "Since I was a kid."

Alaric then stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on the snow and causing the others to bump into each other.

"What'd you stop for!" Fel'tak asked, annoyed.

Mal'fax and Ly'enta lunged at him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Shut up!" They both told him.

Alaric had now knelt to the ground and bent down slightly as they relinquished Fel'tak from their grip. Something had puzzled him and from what he was seeing, it wasn't a good sign. The tracks had suddenly vanished. It was as if the walkers had vanished into thin air in mid stride.

'_I don't like this.'_ He thought. _'It smells too much like a trap.'_

Kra'vyx knelt down and looked as well.

"The tracks have vanished." He said, looking around. "Were they killed?"

"No, but I think we're about to find out." Alaric said.

That was when the hunters suddenly became the hunted.

A loud crack and a surge of stunning power erupted around them, surprising them as a massive lightning storm. Massive arcs of lightning tore around them as their cloak fields shorted out and died in whining fizzing. Their masks also shut down, casting the darkness upon them. They crashed into each other as they tried to consolidate their position. Fel'tak tripped over Alaric and faceplanted into the snow.

'_EMP mines!'_ Alaric calculated as he stood up. _'It's an ambush.'_

That was when the snow around them erupted into clouds as several things emerged from their icy tombs. Weapons could be heard cocking and beams of light illuminated them.

Human weapons.

The initiates found that, after their masks surged back into life, they were surrounded by six marines in full arctic gear covering their bodies and lower face concealing balaclavas under their helmets and wrapped in arctic camouflage cloaks. Each one had a myriad of scavenged and improvised equipment holstered on their bodies. The most prevalent were high powered bolt-guns used for punching anchor points into cliff faces and mining charges. Another odd thing that was strange for a marine was that each of them had what looked like a sword of a different style strapped to their backs with the hilts pointing out of a hole in their cloaks.

The initiates drew their weapons defensively. Ready to fight their way out if they had to. It had come to stand off as both sides waited to see who would strike first. Alaric could recognize from the marines' combat stance, crouching slightly and aiming down the sights of their bullpup style pulse rifles that these were the Spec Ops marines that the tracks had indicated. And the cloaks were thermal insulating stealth cloaks, like the one he hid in when he was a child.

The marines been waiting for them for some time and they had walked right into their cunningly laid trap.

Both sides stood there, waiting for the other to launch the first blow. No one dared make a move or even a sound.

The initiates at this point realized that the marines had not fired their weapons at all. If they did, they would've been dead before the EMP storm dissipated.

"Why aren't they shooting?" Whispered Kra'vyx gripping his kataras tightly.

"I don't know." Mal'fax answered, hefting his hammer. "Don't they normally shoot our people on sight?"

Fel'tak raised his stave and that provoked the marine facing him to aim for his head.

"I think that 'Company' wants us alive." He whispered. "I'd rather die then submit."

Then the marines, after the surge of springing the trap passed, spoke and it wasn't in the way that would be expected for those in the employ of Weyland-Yutani.

"Predators?" One of the marines, a woman and French from the accent said, slightly lowering her pulse rifle.

Annoyed groans and mutters came from the squad. The Yautja were one thing that a marine didn't want to face. Especially if there was a xenomorph infestation for obvious reasons.

"As if things weren't bad enough already!" A second cursed in a Scandinavian accent. "Now we got these skull-hunters skulking around!"

"Well, at least they're not one of Them." Another marine added in a thick Russian accent, brandishing an anti-material sniper rifle's long barrel at each initiates head. "Still, they might decide to hack our heads off first chance they get."

"They try that and I'll introduce them to Reckoning." A marine added, American and brandishing an intimidating looking pistol-grip smartgun, like a futuristic MG42 at Mal'fax.

"Wait a second." A marine, a captain with a polish accent said. "Look at the way they're dressed."

The marines followed their captains order. From what the marines could see under the improvised cloaks, the Yautja had no where near the protection needed on this arctic world. And they weren't armed like those of the Predators that had been encountered in earlier times. They didn't even have those plasma casters on their shoulder. All they had were the melee weapons they could see. However, the short one seemed to be the only one who had gotten the protection right.

"These are rookies, Unbloods I think they're called." The Captain said. "They don't even have plasma cannons on their shoulders."

"It's not their plasma guns I'm worried about." The Scandinavian marine pointed out, looking at Ly'enta's chain whip. "That whip thing will fuck us over big time."

"Then we'd better resolve this quickly." The captain said.

The Captain then stepped forward. He still had his pulse rifle aimed at them. His eyes behind the visor examined each of them in turn. First with the larger Mal'fax and then with Kra'vyx, Fel'tak and Ly'enta. And with some question at Alaric.

It seemed the marines thought that Alaric was an abnormally short Yautja. And nothing was showing to make them think otherwise. His axes were still holstered and out of sight under his cloak. As were his bare shoulders and arms. His banded hair had so much ice encrusted into it that the marines were none the wiser that they weren't Yautja dreadlocks.

The captain took a breath.

"Predators." The Captain addressed them, trying to make himself understood. "We don't know your reason for being here but we are not in the mood for one of your hunts, nor for any of your manhood tests. There's enough crazy shit going around as it is without you lot in the equation. If you try to kill any of us, then you'll be the ones to lose your heads. You have been warned."

The marines, to Kra'vyx's and the others confusion, lowered their weapons in a non-threatening manner. Alaric nodded to the others to do the same, which they did reluctantly. The marines then started brushing off what snow was on them.

It was here that some identifying marks were noticed on their snow encrusted helmets. They each had a name or more accurately, a title stenciled on the side and a symbol that accompanied it. The polish captain had 'Guardian' with a shield. The French marine had 'Apothecary' along with a medic's cross. The American had 'Scribe' and a quill pen. The Scandinavian had 'messenger' and a winged scroll. The Russian had 'Guide' and a compass. And the last marine had 'Justice' along with a pair of scales

"They seem oddly cooperative." The Russian said, cleaning his rifle's scope.

"That small predator seems to be their leader, Sergei" The marine spoke a Japanese accent pointed out, pointing at Alaric with his cloak slipping. "No doubt a veteran."

Alaric then saw a familiar symbol on the marine's left hand pauldron. A pair of angelic wings surrounding a sun with a shining crown hovering above it.

A flash of memory surged into his mind and he recognized the emblem. In fact, he used to wear it not long ago.

"Archangels?" Alaric said in English.

The marines were taken back when they heard a human voice coming from the hunters. A voice they had not heard in a long time. Several of them had slightly lowered their weapons.

"That voice?" The captain said. "It's familiar."

"It's Reaper's." The French medic confirmed. "Alaric's."

The marine gunner aimed his weapon at Alaric and cocked it.

"What did you bastards do with Reaper?" He demanded. "Did you finish him off days after slaughtering his wife and son?"

Alaric slowly reached up to his mask and pulled on the tubes connecting it. Air hissed out in jets of gaseous cloud.

Alaric removed his mask and the marines went wide eyed behind their visors. The gunner's smartgun slipped out of his grasp from the sight, burying its barrel into the snow. In front of them, in Yautja armor and his axes holstered was their former comrade, Alaric. And he was with the three predator hunters. The marines surrounding them were dumbfounded that one of their own had somehow joined the Yautja. Especially one with such a turbulent past regarding that particular race.

"Lieutenant?" One of the marines said in disbelief.

"It can't be." Another said.

"I think I need to sit down." The gunner said, letting himself go thud onto his butt on the ground.

Alaric pulled a slight if somewhat hesitant smile.

"Greetings, Archangels." He greeted before turning to the captain. "Captain Andrzej Kowbaski."

The captain snapped out of his stupor, followed by the marines.

"Alaric, what the hell are you doing here with those hunters!" The Captain demanded. "Where have you been all this time!"

Alaric sighed as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's a long story." He said, lowering his hand, "I have still trouble believing it. Besides, what are you and Weyland-Yutani doing on this planet?"

"Answer the question, lieutenant." Andrzej ordered, pulling rank.

Alaric started to remove ice from his hair as he explained.

"Floria VII, hunting down any Yautja that got in my way."

"Yaught-ja?" One of the marines said in confusion.

"Yaut-ja. That's their race's name." Alaric pointed out, gesturing to Kra'vyx and the others.

Andrzej then nodded as he understood the answer.

"Ah, I remember now." Andrezj said, holding a finger up. "The day you went missing was when you recovered from that attack. You were never one to let anything like that go unpunished."

Alaric lowered his hand from his hair.

"The way you said that, you thought I should be dead." He queried.

The sniper then spoke up.

"The official story was that you died shortly after your family, but we didn't believe it for a second." He told Alaric.

"That's not the first time I got that treatment, Sergei." Alaric shrugged. "You know that."

Kra'vyx then tapped Alaric on the shoulder, getting his attention.

"You know these ma-rines, Alaric?" He asked in Yautja

"My old squad." Alaric answered back in the same tongue.

The Archangels were really surprised when they saw that Alaric was able to speak the language. Sergei pulled his helmet off, revealing long black hair and started cleaning out his ears with an armored finger. Like he had trouble believing what he had just heard.

"He's speaks their language." He said pulling down his balaclava and scratching coarse stubble before slipping it back on followed by his helmet. "Impressive.".

"Actually, I'm still learning." Alaric answered back. "Took me ages to learn the most basic phrases."

"Well, you now know more then all of us put together." The Norwegian remarked before tilting his head to the gunner who was still on his butt. "You're putting Hicks to shame."

The gunner heaved himself up, brushing snow off him.

"That's fine talk coming from a former dyslexic." Hicks countered.

The Norwegian merely grunted in mock humor.

Alaric hooked his mask onto his belt.

"Well, since we're going to be stuck here for a while, we should introduce each other." Alaric said. "Break the ice in a manner of speaking."

Alaric turned to Kra'vyx and the others then gestured to each archangel as they were removing their helmets and lowering their masks.

"Guys, these are the Archangels, the most bad-ass marines in the corps." He introduced in Yautja. "Captain Andrzej Kowbaski 'Guardian'. Lieutenant Sarah Dubois 'Apothecary. Lieutenant Sven Karlson 'Messenger'. Sergeant Major Sergei Zaitsev 'Guide', Gunnery Sergeant Jason Hicks 'Scribe' and Master Sergeant Mac Kyonaki 'Justice'."

The initiates got their first real look at a marines' face, aside from Alaric.

Andzrej Kowbaski had a veteran's weathered face, a jagged scar running from his left cheek to his chin, cutting through a short black, graying beard. He also had penetrating green eyes, like he could see right through you.

Sarah Dubois had symmetrical and lithe features with hazel eyes and her blond hair tied back in a short ponytail.

Sven Karlson had a Nordic face, reminiscent of the Vikings of old. He also had a bug brown bushy beard that seemed to have a life of its own and his blue eyes stood out of the hairy forest.

Sergei Zaitsev was a proper tracker, with his long hair and stubble to add. His aqua eyes were also sharp and calculating, constantly looking for a weakness to exploit.

Jason Hicks was evidently the youngest of the squad though not by much. His short cut dark hair that stood out on his head. Behind his hazel eyes was a wise and calm, but sharp intelligence.

Mac Kyonaki sharp features were like a hawk's, complete with dark green eyes. He also had an intricate network of tattoos under his eyes.

Another thing about each of the Archangels was that on each of their right hand pauldrons they each had a different symbol. Andzrej had what was a parachute with a winged sword vertically in the middle of it and a number one on the bottom surrounded by oak leaves.

Dubrois had what visually looked like a very stylized fleur-de-lis with seven flame-like petals and an orb at its base.

Sven's was a winged dagger, similar to Alaric's SAS symbol but with the dagger's blade pointing upwards and the wings more triangular.

Sergei's emblem was a direct one and it showed a fist clenched around an AK47 assault rifle on a star base.

Hicks' emblem was a simple one, a dagger on an arrowhead base with the words 'Airborne' on top.

And Mac's was also simple, a winged parachute with Japan's national flag above it.

These emblems showed that the Archangels were made up of international members from each of Earth's nations special forces units. And the Archangels answered directly to United Earth Forces' high command.

After allowing the initiates to get a good look at his fellow humans, Alaric then introduced the Archangels to the initiates.

"This is Kra'vyx, Fel'tak, Mal'fax, and Ly'enta." He introduced in English before turning to the initiates. "Come on, show them your faces."

They were hesitant in releasing their masks until Alaric told them that this was an issue of trust, something that would be necessary. Kra'vyx was the first to remove his mask and Mal'fax followed. Fel'tak removed his after mumbling something indistinguishable and Ly'enta cautiously removed hers.

The archangels moved closer to view each initiate more clearly. They considered themselves lucky to see a Yautja this close and not lose their heads. It was even new to them when they saw that Ly'enta was female. Dubois, being of the medical profession, was more then intrigued.

"This is a female?" Dubrois questioned, examining the huntress closer. "Fascinating."

"Amazon compared to us, don't you think?" Sven said, comparing her height with Ly'enta's.

Sergei moved past them as he looked down the tunnel, kneeling and aiming his rifle down his scope. He was keeping a lookout for any trouble heading their way. Hicks came up to him, rapidly typing something into a datapad with his smartgun holstered on his back.

"You getting this down, Scribe?" Sergei asked, sweeping his rifle from left to right down the tunnel.

"This is our first non hostile encounter with predators, of course I'm writing it down." Hicks said.

"Well, get it down quick. I don't know how safe we are in this tunnel."

Andrzej was busy issuing orders to his fellow squad mates that he didn't notice that Kra'vyx was looking intently at the sword hilt on his back. Kra'vyx reached out inquisitively, attracted by the crescent shaped cross guard and the gothic decoration on it. The circular pommel had a shield emblem, the same as his helmet's, embossed on both sides. Written on the cross guard was the name Szczerbiec.

Alaric noticed that Kra'vyx was reaching out a hand to take a closer look and Alaric stepped forward, pushing the Yautja's hand away. Andrzej saw this and his gripped his sword's hilt possessively.

"Hands off the sword." The Pole told the initiate.

"Don't worry about Kra'vyx." Alaric said to his captain. "He's just curious."

Alaric then led Kra'vyx away as his fellow initiates watched.

"Kra'vyx, you'll see their swords in due time." Alaric told him firmly. "Don't do anything that will anger them."

Fel'tak snickered at Alaric scolding Kra'vyx and he was answered by a slap over the head from Mal'fax. Fel'tak growled at the larger initiate and Ly'enta watched them bicker among themselves while crossing her arms.

The Archangels watched the two initiates arguing with each other and the argument was over when Alaric stepped in and cracked his knuckles. They immediately stopped arguing.

"Yep! Looks like Reaper definitely went berserk on them at least once!" Mac said, slipping his balaclava on. "Why else would they back off?" He added with a snicker.

Hicks came walking up to them, holstering his datapad.

"Captain, I hate to whine or anything." Hicks hinted as he drew his smartgun. "But we should be getting back to base before They show up." He checked at his HUD's time display. "It's already this planet's night cycle and we know they're most active at night."

Zaitsev stood back up and followed up behind.

"I agree." He added. "This tunnel wouldn't slow them down enough for us to have a chance."

"Very well, we'll discuss this situation back at the colony." Andrzej said before turning to Alaric. "Alaric, there is much to tell you about this planet."

The Archangels led the way back to their base. The initiates followed them, but were constantly kept under marines' watchful eyes. Not that you could blame them due to the two races' turbulent past.

Sergei was on point sweeping his sniper rifle around each bend and turn. Hicks had taken the rear, his smartgun poised ready to blast anything that comes at them.

The other Archangels were mixed in between with the initiates who had put their masks back one. Alaric was busy listening to Andrzej about what had been going on the past year while Fel'tak was still bickering with Mal'fax with Mac and Sven watching them. Ly'enta walked along while Dubois was busy examining her and taking notes down in her medical journal. Kra'vyx just walked along although he did try to get a look at the other Archangel swords, all which were met by a quick hand on the hilt to discourage him.

Hick was mumbling to himself at the back.

"Blasted Company." Hicks said, his disgust evident. "With the amount of death's occurring whenever they're get hold of some Bug eggs, I'm surprised they hadn't been taken down."

"Like it or not, Weyland-Yutani is here to stay." Mac said, having overheard his comrades rant. "They're too well connected, otherwise."

Mal'fax tapped Alaric on the shoulder to get his attention. Alaric turned his head.

"Your friend seems to have a grudge against the 'Company'." He pointed out. "Something personal?"

"Yeah, with good reason." Alaric said. "His uncle served in the marines and he was part of the ill fated Hadley's Hope incident on LV-426. Official report is he's MIA but we severely doubt that."

He turned to Hicks.

"Your uncle was counted as missing right?" He asked.

"Missing? The company had him killed off more like." Hicks stated.

"That's true." Sven said, scratching his beard. "If the company gets wind of something that interests them, they'll dispose anyone to get it."

The group reached another small cave with multiple tunnels leading out of it.

"The colony is down this tunnel." Andrzej pointed, signaling the others to follow him.

Through the tunnel, they passed several mounds in the snow, each roughly ten to twelve inches in diameter. The mounds were all situated at fifty meter positions.

"These what I think they are?" Alaric said, gesturing to the mounds.

"Motion trackers." Andrzej said. "So we can track the bastards before they come barging in."

He then held a hand to the side of his helmet.

"Colony, this is Captain Kowbaski. We are at the edge of the motion tracker grid." He voxxed.

"Roger that." A voice responded. "We're picking up five more signals. What are they?"

"Some friends we found in the tunnels. You'll see who when we arrive."

"Copy that."

Kra'vyx turned to Alaric.

"What was the lead ooman doing?" He asked in Yautja.

"Just making sure you lot are not walking into a trap." Alaric answered in the same tongue before turning to Andrzej. "Just informed them it's not a trap." He said in English.

Andrzej nodded just as Hick's said something quite profound.

"The first stage in avoiding a trap is to know of its existence." Hicks quoted. "So said Thufir Hawat to the Ducal Heir."

The Archangels turned to the gunner. Alaric chuckled. This wasn't the first time that Hicks said something profound out of the blue. Hicks' articulate and factual wordings at random intervals, not to mention his knack of recording information, stemmed from a rare mental condition in which he had both great academic skills and perfect, if cryptic, memory recollection of trivial facts. In fact, he was often jokingly compared to an elephant because an elephant never forgets.

"That's from Dune, right?" Sven asked,

"Behold the infinite tact of The Messenger." Mac said.

"Noise discipline." Andrzej ordered.

The archangels immediately complied with their captain's orders.

The mixed group eventually arrived back at the colony within the hour. Or what was left of it. All of the buildings and surrounding rock and ice had damage of varying degrees. There were jagged tears, holes from explosives and weapons fire and melted areas from acid sprays. In fact, most if not all the buildings were now frozen uninhabited piles of rubble and metal supports useful only as cover in a fire fight. The only place which seemed the most fortified or least damaged was the command center. And that was heavily reinforced with improvised armor.

There was also a grizzly decoration for this rag tag colony and that was the splashed arcs of red that were scattered around the colony. Blood that had frozen on the metal habs and ice walls after many unfortunate souls met their end.

There was slogan painted on the command center saying "Mining Colony LV-303 Solomon's mines."

There were a handful of people moving about, shifting supplies, repairing damaged barricades, or just skulking around. There were other people moving around inside the ruined hab units. There were mostly civilians; miners, their families, colony personnel, and the like with a scattering of marines. They numbered, outside, about three dozen standing and a few wounded were on makeshift stretchers and hooked up to med-units. And there was a long line of body bags, several dozen in number, of various sizes containing the dead, or what was left of them.

The colonists' reaction when they saw the Yautja initiates was less then friendly as evidenced when they scurried away with a few yelps of fear, grabbing their children or friends and pulling them into hiding places. The marines around aimed their weapons at the Yautja but Andrzej raised his hand out.

"Weapons down!" He ordered. "These predators are not the enemy."

The marines were hesitant in lowering their weapons, giving off a few objections with an explicative or two to add. And one among them chose to voice his opinion.

"Fuck that!" A marine with a shotgun shouted, walking up. "Anything not human is an enemy."

"Stand down, private." Andrzej commanded.

The marine looked at the captain and then to Alaric in hunter armor. He then walked up right up to Alaric, invading the Slayer's personal space. The marine looked at Alaric up and down.

"I didn't think predators adopted humans" He said sneeringly. "How many of us did you behead, traitor?"

He then gave Alaric a hard shove and Alaric simply drew one of his hand axes and flourished it under the marines chin, like he was toying with the idea of decapitation. The marine wasn't so angry, now that he had a razor sharp implement firmly pressed under his chin.

"If you keep pushing me, you'll be the first to find out." He warned and just as quickly withdrew his axe.

"You don't want to piss off the Archangel of Death." Hicks warned. "He eats Bugs for lunch."

The marine eyed everyone and gave Alaric a venomous glare.

"Just you wait, you'll see I'm right." He warned.

The marine then promptly left them, his dignity wounded, as the other marines lowered their weapons and resumed whatever they were doing.

"Sorry about the icy reception, but you understand our predicament." Andrzej apologized.

"None taken." Alaric said.

Kra'vyx tapped Alaric on the shoulder as the Archangels dispersed, holstering their weapons. Alaric looked up to the young hunter as Andrzej watched.

"If that happened back home, that ooman would have been beaten severely." He said. "Why didn't demonstrate your status?"

"He's not worth it." Alaric told him. "Besides, what's out there is a more pressing concern."

"If he did that to me, he would be decorating the floor with his intestines." Fel'tak mused.

That was when he noticed something inviting. A large oil drum that was being used as a fire pit by a miner. The roaring flames were like a miraculous gift from heaven to the half frozen Yautja. The others took note of it and paced over to the flames. The miner instantly scampered away with a few yelps to give them room as they eagerly gathered around the fire.

"Don't like cold weather, do they?" Sven guessed.

A miner and a marine came walking up. The miner was Hispanic, possibly Chilean. He was in full mining gear that was all scraped and smudged from wear. He was holding an ice pick in his hand and had a nail gun slung on his shoulder. The marine was equally banged up with a bandage wrapped around the left side of his bald and scarred face. He was carrying a flamer slung on his right arm and his left arm heavily bandaged. It was evident that he was subjected to burns from acid or fire.

"Welcome back, Archangels." The marine said before seeing Alaric in hunter armor. "Who's this?"

"Alaric, this is foreman Hernandez, head miner, and ranking leader of the civilians." Andrzej introduced before indicating to the marine "And sergeant Kelso, highest ranking officer of the marines."

Kelso looked at Alaric, seeing him in Yautja armor was a first for the veteran marine.

"So, you're the Alaric they told me about." He said before looking at the axe holstered on his hips and back. "Nice close quarters gear you got."

He then looked at the initiates huddled over by the fire barrel and his reaction was more neutral then his subordinates.

"Well, I can't say I'm happy with the thought of predators being here." Kelso said. "But any help is better then none."

"Nothing about this planet is right." Henanderz added. "I think the Company had an ulterior motive for this colony."

"What is going around here?"

"Come, you'll wanna get comfortable for this."

Alaric was led to a large vehicle shed that was being used as an improvised mess hall. Lines of chairs had been placed around lake makeshift stables made from sheet metal and tires. A miner was behind the rickety cooking unit, which had several pots balanced precariously on the heat plates. There was also two large kettles resting on open flames, and the recognizable smell of coffee was wafting from one and other had a meatier, salty smell to it.

"I figured you would have some of that brewing." Alaric smirked.

"Would have? This is the only thing keeping us through this." Andrzej said, grabbing two mugs.

He handed one to Alaric before he took one of the kettles and poured the hot drink into the mug. He then filled his up and put the kettle back on its stand. Kelso and Hernandez pulled up some chairs and sat down with their weapons on their laps.

"Get that down you." Andrzej said before taking a big draft from his mug.

Alaric did the same. It was nice the way the thick soupy drink slipped down his throat, warming him from the inside.

The drink, nicknamed Spartan's Blood, was essentially just powdered meat with stimulants and energy supplements added to it. It was cheap, easy to make and effective in the field and soldiers swore by it as the only thing that would keep them going, even in a god forsaken place like this planet.

"Now that you're comfortable, we should get started." Kelso said.

"Start from the beginning." Alaric said, sitting down on a nearby chair. "What is this colony anyway?"

"Mining colony, extracting ore for starship construction." Hernandez told him "Despite this planet being a remote ice ball, it has bountiful resources."

"Though beneath the exterior was a little nasty secret." Kelso said.

"If this place was remote, far from any space lanes, how did the company know about it?"

"Actually, Mining Division found out about this place from an anonymous tip off. Probably from some independent prospector group." Hernandez answered. "Planetary scans showed that no life, human or alien, was around so the company chose to stake the planet."

"Seemed fine until that signal appeared.

"And when was that?" Alaric asked.

"Well, two weeks ago the colony picked up a heat source several miles south of our location, deep below the surface." Hernandez said, pulling out a data pad and projected a three-dimensional display of the heat source. "Upon examination of the thermal pattern, it was identified as a predator temple and that only meant one thing, Bugs, and lots of them."

He was right. The heat source was indeed a Yautja temple complex and it was massive. It made all the other documented temples look like small hovels in comparison. This one was easily over ten times as large.

Alaric turned his head. He saw that the initiates were still congregating around the fire barrel and the humans were giving them wide berth.

"Kra'vyx, get over here." Alaric called in Yautja, catching Kelso and Hernandez off guard with his sudden change in language.

Kra'vyx came walking over, making the foreman shrink back slightly in caution. Andrzej took a sip from his mug as Alaric took the data pad from the head miner and showed the display to the Yautja.

"Do you recognize the layout?" Alaric asked.

Kra'vyx took the data pad carefully, trying not to crush it in his grip and he examined the display. He flipped it upside down in confusion before calling the others. His friends arrived, he showed them the image, and they debated over what the layout was in hushed voices.

Hicks came walking up and seeing the initiates discuss among themselves, started recording on his data-pad. Evidently, he wanted to get some of the language recorded for translation.

"Do any of you know it?" Alaric asked.

They shook their heads.

"We have never even seen a layout of this kind before." Mal'fax answered. "But we do know that it is not an initiation temple."

"Well, at least that's one thing that's useful to know." Alaric said.

Alaric then saw that Kra'vyx was looking at the hot food, cocking his head. His stomach then gave a loud grumble.

"I think your friend is hungry." Kelso said, smirking.

Alaric cocked his head to the pots, telling the initiates to help themselves since they hadn't had anything to eat for a long time.

"Go help yourselves." He told them. "Can't have you lot weak from hunger before you prove yourselves."

The young Yautja followed his advice with enthusiasm and they all moved over to the pots and went about their business while the miner behind the cooker scampered away from them, keeping his head down.

Alaric turned back to the foreman who was slack jawed from hearing Alaric speak the Yautja language. Kelso had only raised an eyebrow at this linguistic feat before noticing the slack jawed miner.

"Ahem." Kelso said, giving the miner a smack over the head. "Eyes front."

Hernandez snapped out of his stupor, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, what did they say?" He asked as he was handed back the pad.

"Not much." Alaric answered slowly to make sure everyone was listening. "Only that it is not an initiation temple."

Andrzej scratched his beard in thought.

"If it is not one of their initiation temples, then what is it?" He pondered.

"Might possibly be a prison?" Hicks said, looking at the layout. "It looks like one. Look how thick the walls are and the amount of chambers."

"What happened after you discovered the temple?"

"Well, the Administrator sent some of my boys to seal that temple up, to at least stall them long enough to send a distress call." Hernandez told him. "However, they just vanished into thin air."

"Vanished?" Alaric asked.

"Just that. No comm signal, no PDTs, nothing. They just vanished."

"Some of us marines, those with demolition experience, were then sent to find them and finish the job." Kelso explained. "Out of the seven sent out, only one returned, or at least most of him."

"Dead?"

Kelso nodded and led them to the row of body bags and unzipped one. Inside was the eviscerated remains of the marine he was talking about. His entire right arm was severed at the shoulder, his legs fractured in multiple places and his torso partially shredded open, revealing his still intact lungs and heart.

"Damn." Alaric said in disgust.

"My words exactly, Alaric." Andrzej added.

"How he managed to survive that long and drag himself back here with only one arm was beyond us." Kelso said, zipping up the bag. "But when he reached us, he finally gave up the ghost as we got to him. However we did manage to salvage some frames from helmet-cam footage."

He pulled out a small hand held PDA and pressed a button. An image flickered onto screen.

"This was the clearest we could recover but it gave us some idea of what the enemy is."

It took a moment for Alaric to focus on the fuzzy image. He took the PDA and examined it closely. All he could make out was an outline but the outline definitely resembled that of a xenomorph. The distinctive curved head was a dead giveaway. Alaric showed it to the initiates and from their more enthusiastic reactions, that confirmed that it was indeed xenomorphs.

"That settles it." Alaric said. "These 'things' are some offshoot of the Bugs."

"Offshoot?" Kelso said, taking back the PDA. "That's stretching it, isn't it?"

Alaric walked back to the marine.

"What happened next?"

"When night fell, the attacks started." Hernandez said, rubbing his forehead as he remembered. "First it was just a couple of quick strikes in the outlying mine tunnels, nabbing miners and marines on the late shift, but then they started coming right for the colony itself. We been holding them off as best as we could but every time they take more of us away and killing any who resisted. The Administrator and other command staff was taken on the first night and we had sent out distress calls for any earth forces ship to come."

That was when Andrzej stepped in.

"Four days ago, we received the distress call. The message was badly corrupted, weather being the culprit, but we managed to make out keywords. 'Predator temple' and 'Xenomorphs'. So we were prepped up and sent to deal with the infestation."

"But it wasn't that simple, was it?" Alaric said, gesturing to the body bags.

Andrzej shook his head.

"Suffice to say, we were completely unprepared for what befell this colony." He told Alaric.

"The things we found looked like Bugs but they were completely different to what we ever documented or encountered. For one thing, their carapace is a lot stronger. Our weapons' fire just bounces off them and even our grenades barely so much as wind them."

"They're impervious to weapons fire?" Alaric asked.

"Unless you can get them at the joints, yes they are." Andrzej said. "Which is hard enough with the way they move."

"However, our mining equipment works quite well against them." Hernandez said, patting the bolt-gun he was holding proudly. "These babies were designed to punch through rock faces and they can punch through those things, no questions asked."

And it was at that moment that miner would have to back up those words. Because They are coming.

A loud roaring screech was heard echoing down the tunnel. The marines all around reacted immediately by raising their weapons, aiming down the tunnel. The motion tracker's forward sensors then started to give out the eerie foreshadowing bleeps as the civilians gasped and scrambled to the safety of the command center and barricades.

"Svoloch', here they come!" Sergei cursed, pointing down the tunnel.

"With the amount of people they took last time I'd thought they'd lay off us for a bit." Kelso said, bring his flamer up.

Andrzej took one last swig from his mug and placed it on the table before getting up.

"Defensive positions!" Andrzej yelled, cocking his pulse rifle. "Get tactical, Archangels!"

The Archangels sprinted into cover, slamming into defensive positions. Marines and some miners picked up their weapons and got into supporting positions. Hicks braced his smartgun and cocked it while Sergei rested his sniper rifle on a crate and looked down his scope.

"Guys, this is your chance to prove yourselves." Alaric told the initiates, fixing his mask on. "Draw your weapons and get ready."

Alaric drew his great axe and hefted it in one hand as the others did the same.

"Alaric, we don't have any ranged weapons." Mal'fax told him, drawing his hammer.

Alaric merely pressed a button on his wristcomp and to the initiates surprise, two plasma-casters extended from his back and locking into position over his shoulders. Unlike the single barreled version that most Yautja used, Alaric's were more human-like as they had six smaller barrels in a circular arrangement like a minigun. Alaric let the barrels whir around for a moment, warming them up and getting rid of any ice that built up on them.

"These were for the initiation hunt." Alaric told them. "I wasn't supposed to use them until you got yours, but then things changed haven't they?"

Kra'vyx drew his kataras and Fel'tak extended his stave. Ly'enta flexed her whips and gave them a flourish. Sven, who was standing right next to her dodged the mono-edged blades and cursed at her in Norwegian before aiming down the tunnel again.

"Alaric." Andrzej called.

Alaric turned to the captain and saw him throw something in his direction. It was a sidearm holster with magnetic locks for attaching to body armor. Alaric caught it with his free hand and saw the pistol grip sticking out. He saw a single word carved into the grip.

Razeal.

'_I'll be damned.'_ He thought with a grin as he dropped his axe and quickly drew the pistol.

It was his desert eagle, Razeal's desert eagle. And it was still in top condition, just as he left it nearly two years ago. In fact, the magazine loaded in was still full.

Alaric attached the holster to his chest and picked up his axe.

"Bastards are coming into lamp range." Sergei voxxed to his squadmates.

Alaric and the initiates caught their first glimpse of the enemy and it was not what they thought was possible for an already deadly species.

They did resemble xenomorphs but that was where the similarity ended. These ones looked like xenomorphs from the deepest depths of hell. Gone were the skinny lithe bugs, these ones were more broad, hardened and they had the thick chitinous carapace to prove it. Their claws were large and razor sharp like scythes and while their tails were long, segmented and tipped with a wicked barb. Their heads shield like crest was somewhat like a praetorians but not as wide.

Everything about them seemed to be like these xenomorphs were more evolved or possibly more primitive.

"Two hundred meters." Sergei said, cocking his rifle.

Everyone cocked their weapons and got into firing positions. Sergei pulled the bolt back on his rifle, sliding a shell into the breech before closing the bolt. Hicks locked his smartgun's bipod into position and braced it on a crate before aiming down its holographic sights.

"Steady." Andrzej commanded.

The xenomorphs were charging ever closer, and by now they were vaulting the walls and ceiling.

"Fire!" Andrzej shouted.

Every marine and miner let loose with their weapons, filling the dark tunnels with orange strobing lights. Alaric fired his plasma casters, adding a blizzard of blue bolts to the volley. The barrage of fire impacted the alien, sparks erupting from their armored forms. And Andrzej's description was right.

The bullets and plasma bolts were ricocheting of their carapace, causing little or no damage to their bodies. The bolt-guns on the other hand were punching deep into their armor, causing large cracks to erupts before their acidic blood melted through the bolts. But extreme acupuncture was doing nothing to deter the stampeding xenos

"See, bullets bounce of them!" Hicks shouted over the gunfire.

Sergei's rifle gave a loud bang as he fired an AP round at the xenomorph taking point. He had aimed true as the round penetrated the Bug's neck at the base, causing its head to partially peel off it's body and it rolled into the snow with momentum enough to cover several meters, it's brood members fluidly evading its body.

"Adeen." Sergei counted in Russian, dropping another xenomorph by blowing its right leg off at the knee. "Dva."

Even though it was missing a limb, the xeno was still intent on gutting the closest human near it. It got back up, using its tail as a simple and effective spring, leaping far into the air and roaring loudly from its gaping maw. Sergei responded by firing dead center into its mouth and the back of its head exploded. It then rolled into a twitching heap as Sergei switched magazines.

Any archangel that ran out of ammo for their pulse rifle didn't waste the time to bother reloading. They just reached for the bolt-guns that were holstered on them and let loose.

Alaric's concentrated barrage of fire on one of them was having an effect as the carapace protecting it head went fracturing into shards and its head then disintegrated. But its headless corpse was still running, obey the last commands from its now absent brain as it absorbed the incoming fire. Alaric's plasma casters were now glowing hot so he had to let them cool. He drew his desert eagle and fired high caliber rounds at the rushing xenos.

It felt good to wield Razeal's pistol again.

The xenomorphs were now within leaping range and leap they did. Marines and miners went falling back, Kelso letting his flamer loose igniting several xenomorphs as they leaped right up to their perimeter. But being on fire wasn't going to stop them. They immediately charged at the nearest humans. They caught one marine, grabbing his leg and throwing him far into the colony where he connected to a hab wall with a sickening smack. But the Archangels were not budging. In fact, what happened next was not something that the initiates would think a marine would do.

"Swords!" Andrzej shouted.

Each Archangel dropped their weapons and drew the sword from their backs in one fluid motion and got into close quarter combat positions. Alaric holstered his pistol and hefted his axe.

The swords of the Archangels, like their nationalities, were all derived from their home nation. Andrzej's was undoubtedly a hefty broadsword, with the crescent hand guard and circular pommel. Sarah's was a knightly longsword with a cruciform hilt. Sven's was a hardy sword of the Vikings, with a runic hilt and cross guard to add. Hicks wielded a falchion, with a transcript on the blade reading 'Learn this!' Sergei's was a traditional Russian sword called a Shashka, a cross between a saber and a longsword with a cross guard only covering the front. Mac's was the legendary weapon of the samurai, the katana and its curving blade shone in the light.

The Archangels met the xenomorph attack head on, parrying their swords with flawless coordination. They dodged the attacks from the xenomorphs, moving back to a strategic position before counterattacking. The other marines and miners withdrew to more secure positions away from the close quarters of the tunnel

Alaric looked to the initiates.

"Show them no mercy for you shall receive none!" He roared as he charged into the fray.

The initiates gave out a war cry and they charged into the fray behind him. Now the odds were even in this brutal melee. The Archangels would get to see if Alaric had improved since they'd last seen him. And Alaric would see if the initiates' training paid off.

Alaric heaved his axe, biting deep into the chest of one xenomorph, acid seeping and sizzling around the axe head. He was somewhat amazed and a little stunned to see that his axe didn't slice right through like it did in the past. However, he had to adapt to this new kind of foe.

He gave the xeno a good backwards kick to its teeth, smashing it off his axe and pulling it free. He then brought the axe down hard to its head but it slid out of the way, his axe hit the ground below leaving him exposed and it lashed out at him. He narrowly dodged its claws, the razor sharp appendages leaving deep cuts on his armor in a shower of sparks.

'_Ancestor's breath!'_ He thought in surprise. _'Gotta adapt!'_

He threw his great axe at the xeno and it ducked. Alaric had expected that to happen as the axe went flying and hacked right into the back of one that was engaging Sergei and Sven, giving the archangels an opening for attack. He then delivered a pile driving knee to its face, stunning it for a second before drawing both his hand axes and with one synchronized slash from both axes, decapitated the xeno in a flash of acid green. Some acid splashed on his left arm, sizzling on contact with his skin. He gritted his teeth and suppressed the pain as he chose his next target.

The archangels were busy on concentrating on single targets while Alaric was picking targets solo, not that he needed the help. The initiates were taking on targets in pairs, Kra'vyx and Fel'tak engaged one while Ly'enta and Mal'fax engaged another. The other marines and miners were busy shooting xenos that had got past the melee. If they could keep the majority of them busy then maybe the casualties this time would be light.

Kra'vyx and Fel'tak engaged one from both sides, trying to out maneuver it and find a weak point to exploit. The xeno was blocking their every move as it lashed with its tail. It wrapped around Fel'tak's neck like a constrictor before lifting him off the ground and slamming him head and shoulder first into the ground. Fel'tak, half stunned, managed to grab its tail tight, and struggled to both hold it still and prevent it choking the life out of him. He found an opening at the base of its tail and drove his stave fast and hard. The stave penetrated deep, acid spurting out of its gaping wound. Its tail went limp as muscles were severed and Fel'tak squirmed out of its coils.

Kra'vyx lunged at the xeno while it was distracted by Fel'tak and he drove his kataras under its arms. It screeched and bucked, throwing Kra'vyx of it before it lashed out with its claws. Kra'vyx yelled as he felt them slash his chest, tearing deep into his flesh as he hit the snow. Fel'tak leaped forward and with one lunge of his stave drove it right into the rearing xeno's chin and into its brain. It thrashed around as its nervous system crashed before slumping into the ground.

Kra'vyx got back up, forcing most of the pain back as he retrieved his weapons. And not a moment too soon because another xeno was stampeding towards him, smacking one of the Archangels out of the way.

Mal'fax swung his hammer, smashing a xeno right in the teeth with a loud crack and send shards of chitinous shell and teeth into the air. He was rewarded for his effort by a hard tail lashing to the chest, rending his armored shirt into a hail of torn disks. The large initiate was shaken back a few steps and gave the xeno ample time to pounce on him. They both fell into the ground, grappling each other and exchanging swiping blows. A chain whip lashed out and wrapped around the xeno's neck as it now struggled against this new threat. Mal'fax saw that Ly'enta had now got the xeno in a choke hold and barely pulling it off him, giving him a few precious moments to counter attack. He got his leg under it and pushed hard, hurling it off of him. Ly'enta lashed out with her second whip and coiled its legs together. Mal'fax got up and Ly'enta drew back the whip around its neck and then pinned its arms together, leaving it open for Mal'fax.

Mal'fax smashed its chest with his hammer forcing it to the ground on its back and with one final swing; he crushed its neck with a loud crunch.

"What the fuck!" Alaric shouted as he dodged the claw of a xeno that he had cut down earlier. "Didn't I just kill you!"

"It's hard to knock them down and it's even harder to make them stay down!" Sven yelled, driving his sword into the back of his foe as it was distracted by Sergei.

Ly'enta drew back her whips and turned to see one of the xenos, a far more heavily armored, and intimidating beast, looking right back at her. Before she had time to react, it head butted her hard, cracking her mask. Stunned for a second, she was then smashed hard into the ground where it then coiled its tail around her neck and then slammed her into the ground repeatedly, intent on rendering her unconscious. Despite giving her best effort, it finally knocked her out with one final slam and it roughly grabbed her.

Mal'fax rushed to her aid but he was soon tackled into the ground by another xeno and he had no way of reaching her. In fact, none of the humans or his fellow Yautja could get to her.

Hicks was the first to see that Ly'enta was defeated and being hauled off as he charged at his foe.

"They caught one of the preds!" Hicks shouted, driving his sword into his opponent's throat. "Take it down now!"

The xeno then leaped onto the tunnel ceiling, Ly'enta dangling from its tail like a hanged criminal and proceeded to withdraw. Alaric saw this happen and, knowing full well what would happen to her, he forced his way after it. He hammered xenos left and right as he picked up momentum. One claw lashed out and tore his mask from his face without cutting him. His eyes were starting to go crimson as he felt the strength of his ancestors surge in his veins. Finally, he forced his way out of the fight, smashing one xeno right into a nearby wall, and seeing the initiate stealing xeno move onto the tunnel wall, he made his move.

Alaric threw his axe at the retreating xeno, watching spin towards it and hoping he had aimed right. He didn't wait to find out as he charged at it, weaving past anything in his way and slashing one or two xenos stragglers in the process.

The flying axe had struck true, slicing through its tail in a splash of acid and embedding itself in the tunnel wall. Ly'enta's unconscious body hit the floor and the coiled tail loosened its grip. The xeno hopped from the wall onto the ground and faced Alaric. It snarled at him but Alaric casually twirled his axe. The two adversaries just stared at each other, daring to see who would make the first move. Crimson eyes flashed and eyeless features connected. However, the xeno then did something odd.

It gave out a loud roar that caught the other xenomorphs attention. Then on some cue, the xenomorphs withdrew, instantly fleeing the area and not getting in anyone way. Alaric walked over to Ly'enta and knelt beside her, not taking his eyes of the xeno for one moment as he pulled her away. The xeno in turn stared him down as its brood kin passed, picking up its severed tail before following them down the tunnel. Marines and miners came running up to the tunnel as the Archangels were catching their breath.

"They're retreating!" One of the archangels shouted

"Gun 'em down!" Kelso ordered.

Marines and miner took potshots at the retreating aliens. The shot glanced off the xenos carapace but otherwise the shots just missed. And just as quickly as they appeared, the xenomorphs were gone. Alaric's eyes faded to normal as the battle was now over.

"They're gone." Sergei said, "Why did they retreat?"

"I think they've had enough for one night." Andrzej said, wiping his sword on one of the corpses the in the snow to get the acid off.

The other archangels were doing the same, making sure their swords were clean before sheathing them. Alaric went about retrieving his axe from the wall. Ly'enta was stirring as she gingerly moved her arms and legs. Kra'vyx came walking up to them, sheathing his kataras.

"How was your first taste of the hunt?" Alaric asked, pulling his axe from the wall.

Kra'vyx didn't answer because he was undoubtedly confused. He was baffled by the Archangels' swords and Alaric's axes. Now, what was odd about the Archangels' swords was that acid had no effect on them, other then bubbling on the blade's surface and leaving the metal warm to the touch. Alaric's axes had the same effect. And he also saw that where acid had landed on Alaric's arm, he did not suffer any horrific burns as was associated from xenomorph acid. The only thing he did get was what looked like a bad case of sunburn with thin rivulets of blood seeping through his skin.

"Alaric." Kra'vyx asked, looking at the axes and the Archangels swords. "Your weapons are still intact. That's not possible, even from films I have seen from other hunters."

"Secret." Alaric said, wrapping a bandage on his arm with one end held in his teeth. "Though my axes were the inspiration."

"What about your arm? That should've been melted right off."

"Oh, that. Been wondering about that for some time. Might be genetic. But since it makes me immune to acid, I'm not complaining."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yeah, it still burns but it doesn't burn my arm right off."

Ly'enta groggily picked herself up and Kra'vyx walked over to help her. The moment he laid his hand on her, she instinctively tried to force him off her, thinking he was one of the xenos. Kra'vyx calmed her down, assuring her that the xenos were gone.

"Ly'enta, it's all right. They're gone." He said soothingly.

Ly'enta calmed down when she saw that it was Kra'vyx.

"By the gods, I thought I was going to be harboring an abomination."

The archangels came walking up, having picked up their weapons. Fel'tak and Mal'fax was with them and they were each dragging a xenomorph corpse. They were looking pleased with themselves, now that they had their first trophies. They were now in the process of beheading them and bestowing the hunter's mark. Kra'vyx and Ly'enta didn't have any trophy to show but from the way things are here, they wouldn't have long to wait for another chance.

"That doesn't make sense." Sven said, scratching his beard. "Why the hell did they leave so soon?"

"Maybe the predators caused them to reconsider their strategy." Mac said. "And we know that Alaric is the best hand-to-hand fighter out of all of us. I'm certain that's enough to make them think twice."

"I'm guessing these bastards are just Warriors." Sergei said, giving the corpse Fel'tak was dragging a good kick. "I'd hate to see a praetorian next time or a queen."

Fel'tak growled at the archangel for kicking his trophy. Sergei shrugged in mock question before he walked off. Mal'fax gave a good roar of victory as he proudly held aloft his trophy. He was then followed by Fel'tak who gave his head a good yank and it snapped off it's neck, trailing some of it's spine with it. Fel'tak gave a roar of victory as well.

"Well, at least some of us are having a good time." Sven said, gesturing to the proud initiates.

"Count ourselves lucky they didn't get one of the preds." Hicks said, pointing a thumb at Ly'enta. "Hybrids are the worst of both races."

"Don't even joke about that, Hicks." Sarah said, walking over to Ly'enta to check on her. "Those things are nasty enough without this genus in the equation."

"In that case, we should get back to the colony and prepare for the next attack." Andrzej said, reaching for his coms. "Kelso, how are things were you are?

A pause was heard before he got an answer.

"Much better then expected, no deaths, no one was carried off, but we have wounded."

"What about the marine they hurled?"

"Unconscious with broken arms and cracked back but he'll live. What about you?""

"Same here, just cuts and bruises, although they did try to nab one of the preds. Alaric here stopped that."

"Great, if they had a hybrid then we'd be proper fucked."

"We're coming back. Get some Spartan on the heat."

The Archangels then walked back to the colony, tending to their own injuries. Especially Sven who was unfortunate enough to be tossed like a rag doll in the fight. The others suffered scrapes and bumps but their armor and cloaks suffered little damage. Alaric walked with the initiates, pulling his great axe out of the corpse of the xeno it hit. He then found the severed head, his trophy, of the first xenomorph he slew, and he casually carried it on his shoulder.

"Alaric I noticed that your clothing and theirs are not damaged. How come?" Kra'vyx asked.

"Xenomorph proof gear designed by the Grant Corporation." Alaric said. "Designed for combating Bugs and protects against their claws and acid. How else do you think these fatigues of mine have lasted so long?"

They arrived back at the colony and saw that miners and marines were busy dragging xeno corpses to a large tarpaulin. The initiates went over to see what the oomans were doing, and were answered when the tarpaulin was removed and a deep pit full of dead incinerated xenomorphs was uncovered. The miners then shoved the bodies down the pit. A soot covered marine carrying a large mining flamer came walking up, smoking a fat cigar to add to the image of pyromania. And his visor was up and his eyes were clean, giving his a somewhat comical appearance

"If you lot are finished ripping heads off things, stand back." He warned, his blackened visor sliding down.

He then turned, got into a bracing position and let loose the flamer. A large gout of orange and yellow flames erupted out of the nozzle, engulfing the bodies. A screech was heard coming from the pile and to the initiates surprise, a partially dead xenomorph was scrambling to climb out of the pit. From the looks of it, it shouldn't be alive from the amount of damage it sustained but it was.

"Shut up and burn, you bastard!" The marine yelled before letting loose another gout of flame.

The xeno just refused to die as it now started grabbing onto the pit wall. It now clawed its way up the wall and forced its flaming head over the rim. Mal'fax was on it and he swung with his hammer and smashed it in the face, sending it screeching back into the pit. The marine then pulled out his pistol and fired a few rounds. The xeno was silenced as the flames now roared intensely, engulfing the entire pit. The marine lit his cigar on the pilot light of the flamer and took a good draft.

"Nice swing." He said to Mal'fax, smoke coming out of his mouth.

He turned and saw Alaric had walked up, having come over when the flames went up. Alaric looked down into the pit and saw the some of the other aliens were moving, writhing in the flames. His plasma caster locked in position and he fired one long volley into the pit. He watched for any other movement and then turned to the marine.

"These bastards are just refuse to die." Alaric said, his plasma casters retracting. "What's your name, Marine?"

"Flambe, for obvious reasons." The marine said proudly while indicating his blackened form and the inferno in the pit. "That's not the first time we had zombies popping up."

Kelso came walking up, the flamer was still holstered on his back, and he was busy holding and a large chunk of ice.

"I heard screeching. Did one of them get back up?" He asked.

"It was that one again." Flambe said, pointing at the specific xeno.

"For God's sake, how many more times?" He muttered in annoyance before turning to Alaric. "Alaric, Andrzej wants to see you at the generators hab"

Alaric saw where Kelso pointed to and nodded before he walked over to where the Archangels were gathering. Kelso threw the chunk of ice into the pit, hearing it thump one of the aliens before it melted. The initiates meanwhile walked off to examine their trophies.

Alaric saw the building that Kelso pointed him to, the generator hab and Sergei and Hicks were sitting outside on some crates and drinking some S.B from warm mugs. They saw Alaric approach and they held their mugs up in silent salute to him.

"Good fighting, Alaric." Hicks congratulated.

"You really improved since we last saw you." Sergei complimented. "Good shot, nailing that xeno attacking me and Sven"

"You think so?" Alaric said, scratching the ice out of his hair. "Well, thanks for the compliment. Is Andrzej inside?"

"He and Sven are checking the generators for damage."

Alaric nodded and went inside. He saw the captain was looking at the corpse of one xeno that had gotten past the fight and a marine was sitting on it with a bolt-gun on his lap. The xeno had numerous melted bolts in its head making it look reminiscent to a certain horror movie icon.

"I nailed this fucker going for the generators." The marine said, tapping the xenomorph's corpse with his boot. "Killed it but it took this miners face off."

The miner in question was propped against the wall and his face was sheared clean off below the eyes. His jaws, cheekbones and nasal passage was showing clear as day with his face hanging lopsided to his left and dripping blood, But he was still alive, though clearly in shock as indicated by his ragged breath. Sarah was already tending to him, administering pain-meds. She then tried to reattach his face as best as she could. The miner would likely need cloned tissue reconstruction when this situation was over, but until then he'll have to refrain from moving his face.

Sven was busy checking the generators for damage while Mac had his sword out and was preparing to behead the alien.

"Did the generator take any damage?" Andrzej asked, shining his lamp to the Norseman.

"None that I can see, though I'd better open it up just in case." Sven said, reaching around for a toolbox.

"Good, I don't want another night like our first one."

Andrzej turned round and saw Alaric standing there, waiting for him.

"Alaric, now you see what we're up against." He said.

The sound of metal hacking into flesh was heard as Mac started hacking the xeno's head off in quick fluid strikes.

"Yeah, I noticed that some of them refused to die." Alaric said. "I saw that some incinerated Bugs were trying to claw their way out of that pit. What's the deal with that?"

He was answered by Hicks as he came into the room.

"A hypothesis is that they just enter a state of suspended animation when gravely injured and their bodies heal at an alarming rate." He postulated. "Kinda like you, they're adapting to survive. We have to make sure they're dead, and not just 'sleeping'. And even then it's difficult."

"These Bugs adapt too well to be honest." Mac said; giving the corpse one final slash and its head came clean off. He turned to the marine as he picked it up by its crest. "You wanna keep this as a trophy?"

The marine shook his head in disgust and refusal.

"You can stick that on your wall if you want, I don't wanna be any where near it, full stop." The marine said, getting up and walking out of the room.

Mac muttered in Japanese before whistling to Sergei. The Russian came walking in and he roughly grabbed the corpse by the tail. He and Mac then dragged the body out of the room, heading to the fire pit to dispose of it. Sven opened a maintenance panel on the generator and peered at its workings.

"Every time they've attacked us, they had been following a coordinated plan." Andrzej said, sitting down on a crate. "They would send individuals to sabotage key colony systems while the bulk of the attackers distract us."

"These bastards are very smart, almost too smart." Sven said, reaching for a spanner.

"Bugs are fast learners." Alaric pointed out.

"Not this genus." Hicks corrected. "They knew things, things that no newly bursted alien could know. They knew exactly where to hit us hardest for maximum effect. They took out generators, mining vehicles, comm-station, anything that would've helped us gain an advantage."

Alaric paid attention to that one detail. Comm-station. It reminded him of the one thing that he and the initiates needed. A way to call for help.

"Andrzej, is the comm-station still working?" Alaric asked. "Has it been repaired enough to work?"

"As well as can be expected in this weather." Andrzej told him. "Not to mention its makeshift state of repair. Why?"

Alaric pulled out the emergency transmitter from a pouch. Andrzej looked at the piece of Yautja tech. Hicks pulled out his data pad and took a quick photo of it. The transmitter looked like a segmented disk about the size of Alaric's fist.

"It's time to call for some help." Alaric said, juggling the transmitter in his hand.

"Hmm, evidently the Slayer is stronger then we thought." Mal'kah said, going through the footage multiple times on different angles. "That being said, even the Patriarch's kin is pushing his skills to the limit."

He, Qul'dan, and another hunter, one which had a look of superiority on his arrogant, piercing covered face, were going through the footage that their surveillance drone had sent back.

They had been watching the initiates every move, utilizing technology that ensured the surveillance drones would remain undetected. They saw how they had come into contact with the humans, Alaric's old squad, and the colonists. They had seen how the initiates and the sword wielding marines stood their ground against the Patriarch's kin. Mal'kah for one was impressed by their skill and by Alaric's successful rescue of Ly'enta. And he saw with great interest how the Kainde Amedha retreated after their leader and Alaric started each other down.

Qul'dan was pleased by what he saw, meaning that they would have a better challenge from them when the time comes.

The hunter on the other hand voiced his disgust.

"Lower born hunters don't deserve to hunt prey such as this." He said. "It is insulting."

Qul'dan grunted at that comment.

"You really love rubbing your class and breeding in, don't you?" Qul'dan said. "Inbred moron."

"Inbred? I am from superior stock!"

They both started throwing insults at each other, aimed at each others background and upbringing, before Mal'kah's patience ended and he slapped both of them in the face with a loud smack.

"Pay attention!" He ordered.

The two Yautja stopped and resumed watching the footage while rubbing their cheeks, the pierced hunter in particular for obvious reason. The aliens retreated and they caught sight of Alaric's glowing eyes as they faded.

"Why have they retreated? They could've gutted them all easy." Qul'dan questioned before noticing something. "And why was the ooman's eyes glowing?"

"It seems that the memory of the Bloodline is still strong in their minds." Mal'kah said, "It would appear that it has given the Patriarch pause for concern."

"Does that mean that the Patriarch, a god among the prey, is afraid of this ooman?" the pierced hunter asked.

"No, it sees this as revenge for its imprisonment, Tan'kor. It will likely formulate a new plan to combat him."

Qul'dan was eagerly flexing his fingers. He had been itching to fight Alaric and the initiates ever since they crash landed on the planet. But so far, he hadn't been able to indulge in his desire for combat.

"So, what is the plan?" Qul'dan asked, cracking his knuckles. "When can we kill them?"

Mal'kah rolled his eye.

"Qul'dan, we are here to make sure they don't leave the planet but that doesn't mean we're to kill them." he told the hunter, evidently tired of repeating the mission constantly. "Our lord has put emphasis on making it so that the Kainde Amedha kill him, not Yautja."

"And if He alters the plan?" Qul'dan asked, raising a brow.

"Wait, what is that the ooman has got?" Tan'kor said, pointing at the holographic screen.

Mal'kah used his wrist-comp to zoom in on the image of Alaric talking to Andrzej. And it was clear what Alaric had in his hand. It was a distress transmitter.

"Pauk and damnation, he has a transmitter." Mal'kah said. "He is very resourceful."

Qul'dan had now gone from eager to fight to downright angry at this turn of events. If one thing infuriated him, it's prey that gets away.

"Then that means they could very well get off this planet!" Qul'dan roared, smashing his fist into the nearby ice wall. "I say we strike now!"

Mal'kah wasn't fazed by this sudden change. But then Qul'dan had a good point. Even if the transmitter could work through the storm and bring help, it was one thing that mustn't be allowed to happen. Their lord had made that point very clear.

"Very well, we will attack." he said, watching Qul'dan smacked his fists together in delight. "BUT, we need to think this through."

Qul'dan was slightly disappointed by that demand. He preferred to just charge in and let Fate deal the cards. Tan'kor nodded to the veteran's advice. If there was one thing that every hunter should know and that was to know the prey's weakness.

"Listen." Mal'kah said, making himself heard. "What do we know about his 'ooman'."

"He's a fighter, a psychopathic one if you annoy him." Qul'dan said, immediately stating the obvious.

Mal'kah sighed, and rubbed his eye.

"Putting him being a fighter aside, what do we know about him?" Mal'kah clarified.

"Judging from what I've seen, he's something of a protector." Tan'kor pointed. "He's keeping these initiates safe."

"Those marines with the swords are some old ma-rine friends of his, so he has something of a connection." Qul'dan pointed out.

"Good, but there is always one thing he will always uphold." Mal'kah added.

"What is that?"

"An oath, a promise."

Tan'kor fiddled with a piercing located on his lower right mandible with his tongue.

"So he has made an oath that you intend to take advantage of." Qul'dan postulated.

Mal'kah nodded and then Tan'kor realized what Mal'kah was thinking.

"Those initiates." Tan'kor said, clicking his mandible "He's been looking after them after since the crash."

"Exactly, he's the only guide they have." Mal'kah said. "And he has taken it upon himself to make sure they survive. He and his bloodline never go back on a promise."

"So... that oath is going to cost him... his life?" Qul'dan said, getting it with a grin.

Mal'kah nodded. It should be that obvious since that was what they did with Alaric's wife and child. And that seemed to work pretty well, though Alaric survived. However, they would need to plan this attempt through very thoroughly.

"You take those close to him." Mal'kah said, illustrating the process. "Lure him towards us and when he's right were we want him, on our terms and home advantage, THEN we kill him."

"But that didn't work last time did it?" Tan'kor said. "Our lord told me of how enraged he was when he learned that ooman had survived."

Mal'kah rubbed the plate where his eye used to be. Tan'kor, that arrogant noble, had to rub it in.

"Does it hurt?" Tan'kor said, trying to rub salt into the wound. "The failure of that little mission? That was the first time the great veteran has lost something to his prey, isn't it?"

Mal'kah wasn't affect by that slur. He remained very calm and Qul'dan merely coughed, like he was foretelling that something was going to happen.

"Well, as an ooman saying goes; 'Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it." He quoted before gabbing Tan'kor by the neck, throttling him. "And our lord does not want that past surviving a second time." He brought Tan'kor's pierced and gagging face up to his. "When we attack that ooman, don't do anything fancy. Just kill him."

Mal'kah then shoved Tan'kor from him, sending the Yautja rolling to the snow covered ground and gagging for air. Qul'dan merely snickered at the noble's expense, because even he knew when to keep his mouth shut around the veteran.


	15. Chapter 15

Hey all.

thanks for the positive feedback, but i would appreciate it if they were more in depth. Grayhuntress, thank you for that. anything that you think i can improve on or if you just have any favourite parts would be good to know (And get me going for the next chapters.)

that aside, read away!

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><p>Chapter 15- Uninvited guests<p>

Things were looking up for the colony since that first proper victory over the xenomorphs. There hadn't been another attack for an hour now, evidence that the xenomorphs are likely to try another line of attack. The colonists took the initiative with this moment of peace, working hard to make the colony more defensible. The barricades and makeshift shelters were looking more protective and all that can be repaired was being repaired.

One of the newest additions was a fully repaired mining dozer which was now being use to clear up the place a bit and to obstruct the tunnel, to make future attacks harder for the xenomorphs

Fighting back the xenomorphs with no casualties for the first time had instilled a new sense of hope for the colonists. And with the discovery of a Yautja distress beacon, it had given them a new urge to survive.

Even if rescue came in the form of a race of headhunters.

The initiates, Fel'tak and Mal'fax anyway, had fully bestowed the mark of the hunter on their masks. Kra'vyx and Ly'enta could only watch with respect, having not taken down any of the xenomorphs. But Alaric had told them that those bugs would come again, so there was still time to prove themselves.

The colonists attitude to the initiates were somewhat improved, understanding that they weren't here to hunt them, but they still kept their distance from them in case they changed their minds. The Archangels on the other hand found this as an interesting experience to work with hunters instead of fighting them.

Alaric had been reluctant to bestow the mark on his mask but in the end he had doneit. To come this far and not have the mark would be an insult to the clan and to Ja'anya.

* * *

><p>Alaric was sitting down on a chair next to the communications hub located in the command center. Sven and Hicks were with him as he jury rigged the Yautja distress transmitter to the control interface. Sven was busy adjusting the systems to get as much optimal signal as was possible while Hicks was helping Alaric wire up the transmitter. It was much of a process of elimination since very little was known about how Yautja tech worked.<p>

The Yautja were very diligent in keeping their tech from human hands unless it had been earned.

With the colony underground for protection against the blizzards, the comm-relay antenna and dish were situated in a secure bunker located on a mountain plateau several hundred feet directly above their position. And it was made to be impenetrable to attack from any means, be it human, xenomorph, Yautja, or even the environment.

So as far as anyone was concerned, the relay was undamaged.

Sven looked to the distress beacon.

"You think that predator tech is going to be compatible?" Sven asked, turning some dials.

"They're more advanced then us in many ways." Hicks said, plugging in a cable. "Communication is a priority for any race to survive. So it is logical that they could adapt it for our relays, should the need arise. But we don't know until we try."

"You never cease to give logical answers, do you?"

"Goes with the name 'Scribe', Messenger."

Alaric retracted the transmitter's casing, revealing a touch screen interface laden with Yautja glyphs. He then entered code combinations the Kra'vyx had told him. Hicks was intrigued by Alaric's skill and understanding for the language.

"How long did you live with them, again?" Hicks asked, out of the blue.

"A few months." Alaric answered.

"Alaric is a fast learner, you know that." Sven said.

'_Of course I'm a fast learner.'_ Alaric thought. _'I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.'_

Alaric then entered the final code and a status bar with accompanying glyphs appeared on the screen, indicating the connection's strength.

"We have a connection." Alaric said. "Okay, Sven, try it."

Sven then hit the transmit button. The station lit up with static as the relay dishes far above them worked to penetrate the snowstorms outside. Sven adjusted the settings. Alaric and Hicks kept track of the signal reading on the transmitter. The signal got weaker which Sven then corrected. Alaric adjusted the transmitter in unison.

"Pokker, this weather is interfering with the signal." Sven cursed, fiddling with the controls. "I don't think this planet wants us to leave."

A shower of sparks erupted from the controls, right into Sven's face. He cursed in Norwegian as he furiously patted at his face. Hicks took over the controls while Sven was momentarily occupied with his beard.

"This is as clear as we're gonna get." Hicks said. "Alaric, make your message now."

Alaric proceeded to record his message.

"Lai'kairis, this is initiate Alaric. Lai'kairis, this is initiate Alaric." He spoke in Yautja, recording his message. "Our shuttle, Initiate Shuttle Alpha, has crash landed on an ice planet. I don't know what sector we are in, or what name this planet has and frankly, I don't care. Me, Kra'vyx, and the others have survived the crash, but the pilot died on impact. We have taken shelter at an underground colony of humans, my old squad included, and we are being attacked by big fucking xenos. Beware; these things make regular bugs look like children's toys in comparison. We have managed to fend them off for now, but I don't know when they'll come back for seconds. We need immediate evac ASAP! Repeat immediate evac ASAP. This message will repeat until rescue arrives."

He tapped the transmit glyph. The transmitter was now broadcasting.

"Now, we sit and wait for the clan to come." Alaric said in English, getting up.

The Yautja transmitter then gave off a low humming and a small pattern of bleeps. Glyphs circulated around its interface as it worked to adjust its signal to the environmental conditions. It was a long shot, they all knew that, but this was their best chance to beat the xenomorphs or at least leave the planet.

"Well, I hope they pick up that signal." Sven said. "We're running low on supplies here."

"You got that right." Hicks added. "I don't think we can fight them hand-to-hand constantly for long."

"Well frankly, I don't care who comes, be it the Marines or the Yautja." Alaric said.

Alaric yawned. He needed to get some rest after all that happened. First was that ungodly blizzard which he and the initiates crash landed into, almost freezing to death. Then navigating a system of caves and tunnels. Stumbling into the Archangels was a welcome change while the attack from the xenomorphs just made their day even worst.

And now that there was some calm for once, he intended to take advantage of it and get back to top fighting condition.

Sven and hicks could see that Alaric was tired.

"Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna get some sleep." Alaric said, getting up from the chair. "Nothing else for me to do is there?"

His archangel comrades merely told him that he had done more then enough and he should get some sleep before they walked off to check on some other systems. Alaric walked back outside and went to find a nice quiet spot.

It was already late into the planet's night cycle and it looked like most of the colony was getting what sleep that they could. There were only a few marines or miners up, no doubt on sentry duty. They were drinking deeply from their mugs and keeping a sharp lookout down the tunnel. The rest were inside the ruined habs and improvised shelters, grabbing what sleep they could.

Alaric soon found a resting place that was empty. It was a small shed that had been re-worked as a sleeping area. Inside was a portable thermal coil that chugged away, keeping the air warm. Several sleeping mats were arranged on the floor around it and a chair was propped against the near wall.

Alaric stepped inside, removing his great axe from its holster and he heard steps coming towards him. He turned and saw Andrzej walking up to him.

The captain was holding two steaming mugs in his hands and he had a questioning look on his face.

"Alaric, I need to talk to you." He said.

Alaric sighed and gestured his former captain to come inside. Andrzej walked inside as Alaric sat down on the chair, propping his axe against the wall.

"Captain?" Alaric asked.

Andrzej had been planning to discuss with Alaric what he had been thinking ever since they first met back in the tunnels. He handed Alaric one of the mugs.

"Alaric. You have come to understand these aliens, yes?" Andrzej questioned. "Learned their ways and that?"

Alaric took a swig from his mug.

"Yes." He answered.

Andrzej cleared his throat.

"Well, me, and the squad still find it shocking that you, of all people, would be joining them." He stated, bluntly.

Alaric sighed.

"I still find it hard to believe." Alaric said. "But it actually proved beneficial in the end."

"Beneficial?" Andrzej asked, his tone suggesting that Alaric had lost his mind. "Alaric, did all that time alone make you forget what they did to you? What they did to your father's squad?"

Alaric leaned the chair back against the wall. He then fished around inside his armor before pulling out his tags and his locket.

"I could never forget what they did. You know that fact very well." Alaric said, opening his locket and looking at the picture of his wife and child. "Every time I close my eyes, I can still see and hear them dying."

He looked up to Andrzej, with anger in his eyes.

"I distrust them as a whole, I'll admit that, but my true hatred is to those who tried to kill me when I was a boy and those who took Sam, and Ares, from me." He said, before clicking his locket shut. "Besides, I have accomplished more in the last few months with them then I did in the last year."

He unclasped the gauntlet on his right arm, slid it off and showed Andrzej the four tattoos that were still on his arms.

And the scar from where one use to be. Andrzej understood, as per Alaric's family background, exactly what that meant.

"One of the Marked has been purged." He told the captain. "Only four remain."

Alaric reattached his gauntlet.

"They're all dead." Alaric said. "They died a year ago the moment they laid their claws on them. They just don't know it yet."

"And they let you get away with that?" Andrzej said, gesturing to the initiates. "Killing one of their own?"

Alaric gave a light curt chuckle.

"Interestingly enough, those five, as I later learned, are what the Yautja call 'Bad bloods'." He explained. "Outcasts, criminals in the extreme. So in some way, I am doing me and their race a favor."

"Bad bloods." Andrzej said, playing with the word. "Hicks would like to note that down."

Alaric yawned again. Andrzej saw that Alaric wanted some sleep and he knew for one that was one thing he couldn't deprive his former squad mate. Alaric fought best if he was in top condition.

"Is there anything else?" Alaric asked before taking a good gulp from his mug.

"Just wanted to make sure you get some rest." Andrzej answered. "You, and your friends, are the best bet we have of getting out of here alive."

"Well, don't thank me yet until they get here." Alaric said.

Andrzej took a swig from his mug and turned to head outside.

"Andrzej, before you go." Alaric said, reaching into a pouch as the captain stopped.

Andrzej was then handed the dog-tags of the dead marine in the tunnels.

"Came across a dead marine before we met." He explained.

"Well, I'm sure Kelso would want to know." Andrzej said, looking at the tags. "Better then not knowing." He looked back at Alaric. "Rest well, Alaric."

Andrzej then walked out of the hab and Alaric then shut his eyes. He sighed as he shuffled to get comfortable

"Oh, Alaric." Andrzej said, just remembering something.

Alaric opened one eye.

"Captain?" he asked.

"You might want to find some ear plugs." Andrzej told him.

Alaric raised an eyebrow.

"What for?" Alaric asked

"Just saying you'll need some, otherwise you won't sleep." Andrzej stated.

"I'll cope. I can sleep through nearly anything; you and the others know that."

Alaric shut his eyes and crossed his arms, wondering why he needed earplugs in this place. Andrzej walked outside, muttering in polish that Alaric was going to regret it.

* * *

><p>The initiates were taking advantage of the calm, and were busy napping inside one of the recently restored habs with a fire barrel warming them up. Used food bowls and a large empty food pot were scattered around as they had a sort of victory feast after the fight. Mal'fax was up against one of the walls with Ly'enta resting her head on his lap and purring softly in her sleep. Fel'tak was laying on his back on a sleeping mat with his new trophy on his lap and his hands resting on the xenomorph's large crest and snoring away loudly.<p>

Kra'vyx on the other hand, was sitting by the fire barrel deep in thought. Well, he was awake mostly because of Fel'tak's snoring.

He was going over the events that just happened and he could've sworn that he, and in fact most of the clan, knew something about those xenomorphs. He couldn't remember the name since he was only a young pup back then when he heard them. All he knew came from old songs and half forgotten legends that some of the oldest ancients would tell. They talk about a race of god-like Kainde Amedha that completely devoured whole clans and killed off entire ecosystems as their numbers grew. And those stories spoke of a clan of Yautja, it's history and identity long forgotten by modern times, who defeated them and imprisoned them inside masterly constructed prisons designed never to be opened by anyone, at the cost of their entire clan.

But of course, those legends are half forgotten so he couldn't be sure what was truth or just exaggeration by some overly flamboyant bard.

Most of Lai'kairis were skeptical that those Kainde Amedha had ever existed, passing them off as stories that parents would tell disobedient children. One Elder in particular, the self appointed Master of Lore, was so certain that they never even evolved that he would personally punish those who spread that 'lie'. But some of the Elders, the High Elder, and High Priestess included, that believed that the legends held some measure of truth.

And not for the fear and terror in the ancients' eye when they talked about them.

Then again, he thought, would he and his friends even survive to tell the tale?

Footsteps were heard pacing up and Kra'vyx was shaken out of his thinking as Alaric came walking inside. He was rubbing his bloodshot eyes, evidence that he was trying to get to sleep and he was looking grouchy over the interruptions. Alaric looked around the hab and saw Fel'tak snoring away like an asthmatic lion.

This was why Andrzej said he needed earplugs.

"For Grimnir's sake!" He fumed in Yautja, before keeping his voice down because of the other sleeping initiates. "How is it possible for someone to snore so loud!"

Kra'vyx looked at his snoring friend.

"I'd been wondering that for years and I still don't have any clue." Kra'vyx answered.

Fel'tak then gave out a loud rasping snore. Alaric cringed at the sound of it.

"This is unbearable, gives those bloody pipes a run for their money." Alaric muttered.

That was when Alaric got a little idea. Something that he was often on the end of whenever he was asleep. And the environment provided the exact thing needed for it to work.

He grinned.

"Kra'vyx, I got a perfect little present to give him." Alaric said.

"A present?" Kra'vyx questioned. "You're going to give him a present for snoring his head off?"

"In a manner of speaking." Alaric clarified.

Alaric cocked his head towards outside and walked out, picking up a bucket laying nearby with Kra'vyx following. He walked over to a large bank of snow and he started scooping snow into the bucket.

"What are you doing?" Kra'vyx asked.

"This is a little something that Hicks did to me once. It's called a 'Mr Frosty'." Alaric said, picking lumps of debris from the snow.

He made sure that the bucket was nicely heaving with snow.

"What does it involve?" Kra'vyx asked.

"One sleeping victim, a bucket of snow, and a well placed smack to the face." Alaric told him.

Kra'vyx's eyes went wide when he learned that this was a prank. He then pointed to the bucket and then made the action of chucking the bucket into his face. Alaric nodded and cocked his head, telling Kra'vyx to follow him.

They both crept back into the hab and sneaked over to the sleeping Fel'tak. A couple of miners sitting next to a fire barrel, drinking some hot coffee watched them sneak inside. Both of them were perplexed by Alaric and Kra'vyx's movements.

"What is the predator and marine doing?" One of them asked.

"Don't know, but it's likely about the one that's snoring the place out." The other answered as the two warriors stepped into the hab. "Hope they shut it up."

Alaric and Kra'vyx carefully crept closer and closer. Fel'tak gave out a loud snore, making the two of them freeze in anticipation of him waking up. But Fel'tak merely scratched his forehead and snored. Alaric sighed softly in relief and positioned himself to hurl the snow onto the sleeping Yautja's face while Kra'vyx knelt down by his head.

Alaric nodded to Kra'vyx to begin.

On cue and after a few seconds of anticipation, Kra'vyx slapped Fel'tak hard in the face, waking him up as he snapped one eye open. And the first thing he saw was the bucket of snow coming right for him. The snow completely piled into his face and he sputtered and grunted as he tried to get up. Kra'vyx and Alaric by now had darted out of the hab, bucket clattering behind them and sprinted to another hiding place, which they dived behind out of sight behind a wrecked truck.

Hicks was sitting on a crate outside the command center typing into his data-pad as he watched the whole thing. He saw Fel'tak step out of the hab, his head and upper body covered in snow and a seething look on his face. Hicks couldn't resist laughing at the sight, causing some of his squad to see what was going on from what ever they were doing.

Andrzej came walking up, finishing off the last of his drink followed by Sergei who was polishing his sword.

"What happened?" Andrzej asked.

"One of the preds has just been Mr Frosty'ed" Hicks said, pointing at the half frozen initiate.

Alaric came walking out of his hiding place with a smirk on his face. Kra'vyx followed behind and he chuckled when he saw Fel'tak's new make over. Ly'enta and Mal'fax had also woken up from the scuffle and, seeing the state of their friend, were chuckling too.

"Figures." Sergei said. "Alaric couldn't stand the snoring."

Fel'tak looked at Alaric as the slayer walked up to him.

"What the hell was that for!" He asked before shaking his head to get the snow off.

Alaric glared at him with bloodshot eyes.

"With your snoring, it's a wonder those bugs aren't attacking us." Alaric told him. "I would suggest closing your mouth when you sleep from now on."

Alaric went walking off to his sleeping place, Kra'vyx following him. Mal'fax and Ly'enta in the meantime had gone back to sleep. Fel'tak merely muttered unhappily as he went back inside.

Alaric stepped back inside the shed and yawned.

"What was it you said about pipes?" Kra'vyx asked. "Saying that Fel'tak's snoring was worse?"

"Oh, the pipes." Alaric said, sitting back in his chair. "Well, once when me and the Archangels were on a training mission on urban warfare, there were these quarters which had these pipes running along the ceiling and they made the most odd and annoying creaks ever heard." He shuffled back into a comfortable position. "Sergei made a bet with me to stay in that room for the night. I did and the next morning, he found me hanging up on the pipes, smacking them with my fists and screaming 'If you're gonna keep me up all night, do it properly!"

"I bet you were cranky because of that."

"I certainly was." Alaric said before giving Kra'vyx a mock serious look. "And I'll get even crankier if I don't get to sleep right now."

Kra'vyx took his cue and left Alaric to his rest. Alaric then shut his eyes and relaxed his breathing. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, now that nothing was preventing him.

* * *

><p>Alaric slept quietly for about two hours when he was roused from his slumber. How he woke up came from Andrzej as the captain came up to him and gently started rocking Alaric's shoulder. Alaric merely grumbled as he shuffled a bit and didn't wake up. Andrzej then nodded his head when he saw Alaric needed a little incentive and then clicked his fingers. Alaric then felt something hit his face with a loud poof. A white cloud erupted around his head and he opened one eye. He saw as the dust dissipated that Andrzej was standing by him and he saw Sergei dusting his hands clean of a white powder. He also saw Kra'vyx was standing behind them, chuckling at Alaric and was holding a small barrel.<p>

Alaric coughed a large white plume as he guessed what happened. It just happened to be the most repeated prank on him. Something that he had regretted showing the squad that one time on leave.

"I've been antiqued, haven't I?" Alaric asked, yawning. "Plaster?"

"Da." Sergei answered before hurling another handful right in Alaric's face.

Alaric shook his head, coughing as the plaster powder went dispersing into the air, obscuring his head in a white cloud. Kra'vyx snickered at the sight.

"What is it?" Alaric asked, getting up and coughing.

"It's something that you should see." Andrzej explained. "Urgent."

Alaric grabbed a canteen that was laying nearby and splashed water on his face before scrubbing his face clean.

"Well, as soon as the fog clears, I'll see what it is." Alaric said before taking a swig and then spitting into a corner.

The two archangels walked out with Alaric following them, leaving a white dust trail behind him. Kra'vyx meanwhile was digging the in the barrel for a hand full of plaster and was intent on trying it on one of his friends.

Andrzej pointed to a large dilapidated vehicle shed and inside there was a large mass of tarpaulin, netting, and scrap metal covering a large object. Alaric didn't know what quite to make of it, other then a poorly improvised shelter.

"Over here." Andrzej said, gesturing Alaric to follow.

The Archangels arrived at the junk pile and Sergei moved over and started rummaging around, pulling the scrap aside. Sheet metal went clattering to the ground and netting tangled up with it.

"What's going on?" Alaric asked. "What is Sergei digging for?"

"The one thing that those bugs didn't destroy." Andrzej said.

Sergei yanked another tarpaulin out of the way, taking down several scrap plating with it and a sliding door was revealed. On it was the Archangels' symbol, the winged sun and the crown. He then unlocked and slid the door open. Alaric saw now what was hidden under all this scrap.

It was a marine corps Spec Ops APC, a far more aerodynamic and advanced model then what the standard grunts were issued. They were designed to be faster, stronger and pack enough fire power to wipe out a hive, as demonstrated by the intimidating auto-cannon turret on top. Moving to its front, he could see the vehicle had a massive retractable plow attached to its structure for clearing a path in heavy snow. It also served as a simple but effective battering ram.

Sergei moved out of their way and went about his sentry duty.

"I was thinking about where the APC would be." Alaric said, stepping inside.

"How else did we get an advance warning?" Andrzej answered, following him inside.

Alaric felt at ease to be in a familiar setting again. He could see the line of seats that would be used to transport up to ten marines. And he could see his codename stenciled on the seat facing out the door.

REAPER.

'_Just like I last saw it.'_ He thought.

Alaric, as the squad's point man, was always the first out of the APC

There was an open weapons locker on the wall and there was an array of spare weapons, pulse rifles and the like with the spare ammunition to go with them. One of which was a SADAR anti-tank missile launcher.

The medical cabinet was open as well and what Sven said earlier about dwindling supplies was true. There was barely enough supplies to treat the squad, let alone an entire colony. The ammunition was tapped as well. Sarah was at the cabinet, busy rationing what supplies they had left and was improvising bandages from old sheets of fabric.

Sven was sitting on one of the seats with scattered tools around him, engrossed in fixing several sentry guns, no doubt wrecked during a previous attack. The sentry guns' casings were torn and ripped and the circuitry inside were damaged. Sven had been improvising rudimentary plating and welding it in its place. He had also added some wickedly sharp spikes on them to discourage further attempts to touch them. He had also oddly removed his gauntlets so he could work without hindrance, which may prove problematic on account of the spikes.

Sven looked up as he heard his captain and Alaric walk over. He retracted his visor from his eyes.

"Captain, what do you think?" He asked, showing off his handiwork.

Andrzej looked at the sentry guns. It was evident in his eyes that he seemed a bit apprehensive about getting closer to them out of fear of losing a finger. Alaric on the other hand thumbed the spikes to test their sharpness.

"Do they fire?" Andrzej asked.

"Of course they fire." Sven told him. "They wouldn't be fixed it they didn't fire."

Sven hooked up the sentry gun to its power cell, then activated the firing mechanism and its gun gave of a series of clicks in ten click bursts. It was clear that the sentry guns were now ready to be deployed.

"Well, in that case." Andrzej said, pointing a thumb outside "Deploy, load and activate them."

Sven picked up the sentry gun he was working on and Alaric and Andrzej gave him wide berth as he walked outside. A curse was heard coming from him and the thumping of the sentry gun hitting the ground. He came back inside, flinging his hand up and down with blood seeping out of a cut on his palm. He reached in a pouch and pulled out a band aid before applying it to his palm.

"If they can cut me, then they can cut some bugs." He said, slipping his gauntlets on and picking up another sentry gun before walking out.

Andrzej shrugged and moved further into the APC with Alaric following him. Sarah moved past them, taking the medical supplies with her. She hopped out of the APC and walked over to the medical hab.

Mac was manning the command console and he was concentrating on deciphering a puzzle. On one of the monitor screens was a radar display, showing a fifty kilometer radius. At the twenty kilometer point to the north, there was a blip that indicated something moving around

"What is it, Mac?" Andrzej asked.

"Far range motion trackers are picking up signals." Mac answered, focusing the monitor on the blips position.

Andrzej looked at the screen. There were a dozen blips concentrated in that position. They were moving around but staying in the general area.

"Bugs?" He asked.

"No, not moving fast enough." Mac answered.

"Missing miners?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it unless they had the means to evade the bugs for this long."

Alaric looked at the screen. He couldn't help but think that another explanation could be helpful at this point. One that he himself was the catalyst for it.

"This could be a rescue party from Lai'kairis." He suggested.

He figured that maybe the transmitter caught the attention of a passing ship. Or perhaps Lai'kairis had been searching for them when they learned that they never arrived for their hunt.

"That's the clan you were with?" Andrzej asked.

"Yes. But I can't be sure unless someone investigates."

"Well at least we know have three possibilities as to what we're dealing with."

"Where are they located?"

Mac typed on the control interface, accessing the colony's schematics and the layout of a complex was projected. It was a heavily industrial layout.

"The abandoned refinery complex." Mac answered.

Andrzej turned to Alaric.

"Alaric, we'll need to organize a scouting party." He said. "You and your friends up for it?"

"I'm sure they'll be happy to go on the hunt." Alaric answered.

"I'll inform Kelso and Hernandez. Mac, continue tracking them."

Alaric and Andrzej both walked out of the APC and moved off in separate directions.

When Alaric came up to the initiates' hab, he saw that was a large white cloud billowing out from within it. It would then grow large with a surge of white dust every few moments. Alaric sighed as he figured what was going on inside.

A large white dust cloud came walking out, coughing, and brushing itself off. As the dust settled, Alaric could see that it was Mal'fax and he was in definite need for clean air. Ly'enta soon shuffled out in much the same state, cursing at the two who were still inside.

Fel'tak came scampering out, bending over and giving a loud roaring cough. It would seem that he took a good amount of plaster right in his mouth. Obviously, he had not followed Alaric's advice.

Finally, Kra'vyx came out, dusting himself off and looking quite pleased with his handiwork.

That is until he saw Alaric's frown.

"What?" Kra'vyx asked.

"If you lot are finished antiquing each other, I have some news." Alaric told them.

* * *

><p>It was decided that after a lengthy and somewhat heated debate between the colony's leadership that Alaric and the initiates along with a few marines would head out to investigate. The Archangels were to drive them inside the APC near to the location and drop them off before pulling back to wait as back up. Kelso had volunteered to be part of the welcoming party and he brought along two marines, privates Topazini and Giles, as well.<p>

Foreman Hernandez in the meantime will direct the rest of the colonists to fortify their position in their absence.

Tensions were high inside the APC. The initiates felt that this APC was more like a prison then a transport, having to sit on the deck due to not fitting in the seats and having to stoop down when ever they stood up. Mal'fax suffered most, taking up most of the back with his bulk.

Kelso and his marines were strapped in their seats and were watching the initiates' every move. Topazini, the marine who threatened Alaric when they first arrived, had one hand on his shotgun at all times and was venomously watching them, ready to pump them full of lead should they try anything. Giles, a marine who sported a ragged scar down the left of his cheek on his upper lip that left him with a permanent snarl, was not as hostile but he had his pulse rifle on his lap just in case. Kelso, still bandaged, was busy cleaning his flamer's nozzle.

There was also a miner, a young worker in his early twenties, holding a bolt-gun and head lamp, who had been instructed to guide them around the refinery. He was looking very apprehensive about the prospect of being in an APC full of marines and Yautja hunters.

The Archangels, treating this just like any other mission, were busy prepping their equipment. Mac was up front driving the APC and Andrzej was in the command chair, checking all the camera feeds and vitals for the group. Sven was busy uploading the refinery's map into a datapad and synching it with the APC's sensors for easier access for Alaric and co. Hicks was manning the turret, keeping an eye out for any hostiles, ready to blast them with the 20mm autocannons.

Alaric, sleeping in his seat, and the initiates, not so much napping, each had a camera hidden on their armor. This was so that the Archangels can track them and be able to point out hidden dangers they might not notice to Alaric's mask frequency. They also had each been given proper winter gear in place of their improvised cloaks. Alaric's was no big deal, his thermal jacket fitting snugly under his chestplates, but the initiates had to have theirs modified to account for their larger sizes. They were wearing rudimentary vests and had multiple heat packs strapped on their bare arms and legs.

The ride was calm, despite a few rough bumps every now and then. So far nothing had appeared to confront them. Either the xenomorphs were biding their time to attack them when they least expect it or were busy preparing a trap before hand.

To Alaric, it was like he was rocking in a crib.

"We're coming close to the refinery." Mac called out from the cockpit. "Five minutes."

"Somebody wake up Alaric." Andrzej ordered.

Everyone immediately started putting on their helmets and cocking their weapons. Sarah, sitting next to Alaric, gently rocked him on the shoulders. Alaric stirred and opened his eyes. Upon seeing that everyone was getting ready, he told the initiates to do the same as he slipped on his mask and cocked his desert eagle.

"Sven, are the signals still in their position?" Andrzej asked, cocking his pulse rifle.

"Ja." Sven replied, focusing the datapad's monitor on the refinery schematics. "From the looks of it, based on the last scan, they're holding up around the foundry. Makes sense, it is hottest place and bugs can't stand fire."

"Okay." Andrzej started, pivoting his seat to face everyone. "Let's recap the plan so that we know exactly what we are doing."

He made sure everyone as listening. He even gave a sharp whistle at the marines who were busy glaring at the initiates. He then proceeded to go over the plan with Alaric translating for the initiates.

"About thirty minutes ago, we picked up signals of lifeforms in the refinery. So far, we don't know whether it is bugs, miners, or predators. Since we're clear of hostiles for the first time since this incident started, we're taking the initiative."

He looked to Alaric.

"Alaric, what is our objective?" Andrzej asked him.

"We head out and investigate those blips." Alaric stated, indicating himself, the initiates, and Kelso and his marines. "Determine if it is Lai'kairis, surviving miners or ungodly bugs."

"Once contact is made, if the signals are friendly, then maybe negotiations can be started."

Topazini hawked and spat on the deck, right between Alaric's boots.

"Fucking head hunters don't negotiate." He spat. "Look at them. They're plotting to rip our heads off first chance they get!"

Alaric, to shut that offensive marine up, aimed his tri-sight at the marine's head, right between the eyes. That caught his attention as Alaric extracted his plasma-casters and the barrels started to spin.

"If they didn't negotiate, you would have been dead the moment they saw you. Remember that." Alaric pointed out. "And if you deface this transport again, I'll tear your salivary glands out with my axe."

That had silenced the spiteful marine, who could only glare back as Alaric shut off his sights. Giles snickered at that sudden lack of balls.

"You were saying, Captain?" Alaric said.

"As I said, investigate the signals and determine if they are friendlies." Andrzej continued. "The Archangels will supervise the situation and provide extraction should things go FUBAR." He looked to everyone, including the initiates. "Any questions?"

The miner put a hand up nervously. All eyes turned to him.

"Why the hell are we going out there with those headhunters?" The miner asked, gesturing to the initiates. "Wouldn't it be better if we all go?"

Obviously, the miner felt that safety in numbers would be better then going out there then a small group. More so because of the Yautja race's reputation.

"A smaller group will attract less attention and be able to move faster." Hicks said from the turret. "Besides, we need them to confirm if it is their clan or maybe one that they know of."

"Exactly. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back." Sergei added.

Kelso looked up from his flamer.

"Well, the moment those bugs appear." Kelso started, brushing his flamer. "Contact with predators or not, we're bugging out."

"Ten seconds." Mac called out.

Alaric unlatched his harness and stood up as Kelso and his marines did the same. The miner on the other hand was hesitant. Alaric signaled the initiates to get up, which they did in cramped positions. Alaric moved up to the door.

The APC had now reached the outer areas of the refinery. This was where the refined ore would be stored and then shipped to the colony for processing and transportation to shipyards throughout human space. The APC drove past abandoned warehouses and derelict transport trucks. Its headlight beams illuminating the darkness, casting eerie shadows onto the surroundings.

This was perfect territory for xenomorphs.

From view screens inside the APC, the occupants could see the grizzly sight of dead frozen miners. They were scattered around in a mixture of fight or flight on the ground and against walls in frozen red sheens. The signs of combat were around as seen from the effects of mining equipment on structures with deep craters and shattered walls from seismic charges.

Despite putting up a hard fight, they never really stood a chance against a race evolved for killing.

The APC stopped and Alaric pulled the hatch open with a loud thud. Kelso and his marines hopped out, taking defensive positions as the initiates followed suit, glad to be out of the confines of the APC. Alaric hopped out last, sliding the hatch shut and giving it a few taps with his fist. The APC then reversed out of the courtyard and vanished back down the tunnel, taking their light of safety with it.

They were now in a hostile darkness.

"There they go." The miner said as their one path towards safety was driving away.

"Don't sweat Kid, they won't be too far." Kelso said.

The marines activated their shoulder lamps and the miner switch on his head lamp. Alaric and the initiates switched to thermal imaging and everyone's thermal signatures appeared as clear as day.

"I'll take point." Alaric said, drawing his great axe and gesturing the initiates to move ahead.

The group cautiously made their way past the abandoned warehouses and abandoned loading yards, keeping a vigilant watch for anything that would attack them. Alaric had the miner up with him, guiding the rest of them towards the refinery. The miner had his bolt-gun in one hand and the datapad with the area's map on it.

Kelso and his marines took the rear, much to their chagrin. Topazini was muttering a steady stream of curses while Giles was fixated on the motion tracker he was carrying. So far, he was only picking themselves up.

Kra'vyx and his friends were in the meantime high above, cloaked and running on the warehouses' roofs and piping.

So far, their presence had gone unnoticed.

* * *

><p>Reaching one warehouse that was directly in front of them, it was decided to they should cut through it to save time. However, they proceeded carefully as they couldn't afford to get caught in an ambush. Alaric therefore led the initiates inside to scout ahead. Kelso and his marines took up positions at the doors<p>

Entering the warehouse through its massive cargo bay doors, Alaric could see the gigantic shipping containers that would be and maybe still filled with the refined ore that the refinery produced. And in true warehouse fashion, they were all arranged like a modular maze, three stories highs. Looking up, he could see the crane that would be used to move the containers onto the trucks.

The initiates looked perplexed as they tried to figure out where to head to next. There where three possible entrances into this maze.

"Well, which way?" Mal'fax asked, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Fel'tak said.

"We can use sonic mapping to record the surroundings." Kra'vyx said, flipping his wrist-comp open.

"This will go quicker if we search in teams." Alaric said.

He turned to the initiates.

"Mal'fax, take Ly'enta and go to the left. Kra'vyx, take the right with Fel'tak. I'll cover the middle."

The initiates followed his orders, moving to cover each of the sides. Alaric turned to the miner.

"Miner, what is your name?" He asked.

"It's Erickson, Sir." The miner said nervously

Alaric cocked his head to the miner, gesturing him to follow. The miner complied nervously. Each pair then moved through their chosen routes, one with weapons drawn and the other using their sonic scanners. The initiates promptly activated their cloak fields, becoming one with the darkness.

Alaric led Erickson behind him, his axe drawn and vigilant for ambush. The miner was keeping his eyes firmly on the ceiling, looking for any xenomoprhs that might pounce on them. In fact, he kept it up with such focus that he tripped over something. He hit the ground in a heap, his bolt-gun misfiring and nailing a bolt right into the container wall ahead, missing Alaric's leg by an inch. Alaric look behind him and saw Erickson picking himself up and seeing what he tripped over. He had tripped over the eviscerated corpse of a miner and had managed to shake its head loose. Its head then snapped off with a loud crack and rolled between Erickson's feet.

That was when Erickson's fortitude gave out and he promptly lost the contents of his stomach all over the floor for several gut wrenching moments

Alaric looked at the miner and shrugged his shoulders with a grunt.

'_Should've asked for a more experienced guide.'_ He thought as he gave Erickson a few pats on the back.

After that brief nauseating episode, the two humans moved cautiously further into the cargo maze, passing turns and moving through open spaces. Alaric's sonic resonator was busy mapping out the area, indicating the best routes to take.

Approaching a cross intersection, Alaric cautiously stuck his head out and scanned his surrounding with his mask. All his mask could detect were the initiates sneaking around and the miner who was right behind him.

He looked up to the ceiling to make sure there were no xenomorphs were awaiting in ambush above. So far he could see nothing. It appeared that they weren't being hunted.

He checked in on the others.

"Guys, have you found anything?" He asked in Yautja, moving forward with the miner following.

"Nothing." Kra'vyx replied. "Found a couple of dead oomans, though."

"There is no prey here." Mal'fax added. "And if they were, they were long gone before we got here."

"Continue on and call in when either of you find the exit. Don't let your guard down."

Alaric then hailed Kelso on his coms.

"Kelso, it's clear to proceed." He voxxed in English. "No bugs are here."

"Roger that." Kelso replied.

The loud footsteps of marine boots were heard approaching and Alaric could see the light from shoulder lamps illuminating the darkness behind them. He could also hear Topazini's protests, stating that they're being sent on a wild goose chase. They soon came into view in a staggered line formation, hugging the container walls.

Alaric signaled them over.

"Where are the predators?" Kelso asked Alaric.

"Plotting to tear our heads off likely." Topazini answered.

"As long as your head is included, I'm not complaining." Giles added.

Alaric chuckled at that while Topazini gave a few bouts of 'fuck you!' to the two of them.

"They are busy scouting for an exit." Alaric said.

He was then hailed by Mal'fax on his coms.

"Alaric, I have found the way out." The initiate said.

"Notify Kra'vyx and Fel'tak. I'll be there with the others." Alaric answered in Yautja.

He looked to the marines as the layout of the warehouse projected on his mask, highlighting Mal'fax's position. A route was being plotted towards the initiate.

"This way." He said, cocking his head in the right direction.

* * *

><p>They saw the massive refinery complex looming in the distance the moment they stepped out of the warehouse. The almost gothic looking complex looked like it was built into the massive cavern like a gigantic sprouting seed. A vast network of pipes were seen going into the rock like roots, from which the fumes and emissions from the refining process would be vented up into the outside world.<p>

The refinery's immense size was what caught their attention when they emerged from the warehouse. The initiates for one were in awe over its sheer size. Alaric just gave a sharp whistle as Kelso reached for the pair of binoculars in their pouch.

"There it is." Erickson said. "The refinery."

Kelso looked through the binoculars, scanning the environment ahead. He could see that the environment was taking its toll as gestured from all the ice that was growing like a cancer on its pipes and walls. But on a plus side, there was no indication he could see that the xenomorphs were using it as a hive or even as a forward base.

"Well, there's no hive webbing." Kelso said, lowering them. "They hadn't hived this place so that's a good thing."

"Just because there's no webbing doesn't mean they're not lurking in there." Alaric pointed out. "Don't let appearances deceive you."

He flicked his masks visions to detect thermal signatures. He was ascertaining if the refinery was still in use if there are signals coming from within. However, the thick layering of ice was inhibiting his view, masking any possible heat signatures. He did however find an entry into the refinery.

"I can't scan the refinery from here." He said. "But the cargo bay doors are open so we won't have to break in."

"Well, let's just investigate the signals and get back to the colony." Giles said, cocking his pulse rifle.

The group proceeded to the refinery. Alaric and the initiates took up point, using their masks to scan out the area. The marines and miner followed behind.

"I heard stories from hunters about spires of metal that humans build." Ly'enta said, pointing at the refinery. "To see them up close is something else."

"There's bigger ones that turn barren worlds alive." Mal'fax added. "I didn't think oomans could build anything like those."

"And they can just as easily destroy worlds." Alaric finished. "Atmosphere processors can cause a very big thermonuclear detonation when destroyed. LV-426 is evidence of that."

They eventually arrived at the massive cargo bay doors of the refinery in little more then ten minutes and their minds were changed when they saw the damage up close. Many of the large transport rigs were scattered around in various states of damage and disrepair. Their superstructures were crippled and wrecked, their ore and refined metal loads spilled everywhere in streaking heaps and their cockpits were smashed open and streaked in blood. And there was a dead miner dangling from his foot from the closest rig's cockpit, obviously had gotten caught while trying to escape and was then slaughtered like a stuck pig.

It was clear that when the xenomorphs attacked, the miners at the refinery were taken completely by surprise.

Giles checked the motion tracker and signaled that there were no hostiles in the immediate area. Alaric decided to check in with Andrzej.

"Captain, we have reached the refinery." Alaric voxxed. "No sign of hostiles yet."

"Roger that. Proceed with investigation." Andrzej confirmed.

"Anything on your end?"

"Nothing yet but I'll keep you posted in case anything changes. But be advised, camera feed is getting extremely faint at this point so we'll likely be blind at this end once you enter."

"Understood."

"One last thing. Those signals we're tracking, they're registering as human according to the scanners."

"Roger that."

Kelso walked up to Erickson.

"Are the signals still in the foundry." He asked the miner.

Erickson checked the map and sure enough the signals were still located in the foundry like the last time they checked. But what was odd was that the signals didn't appear to have changed position. They were exactly in the same places as before.

"Yeah." Erickson said. "And still in exactly the same place as last time."

"Still in the furnaces?" Kelso asked.

"Still? They hadn't even moved around the foundry. Not even an inch." Erickson showed

"Miners too chicken shit to move probably." Topazini muttered.

"Can it, Private!" Kelso ordered. "Lead on, Miner."

They made their way into the darkened cargo bay, negotiating their way past wrecked vehicles and spilled loads. Erickson led them through with Alaric following behind. Kra'vyx and his friends negotiated their way over obstacles while the humans slugged it out below.

Kelso and his marines were taking no chances, sweeping everything thoroughly before moving further another meter. Alaric and the initiates merely cycled through multiple visions and moved through the cargo bays.

They reached a half open doorway that led deeper into the refinery. After heaving the sliding door open more with a few hard shoves, they proceeded down the darken corridors. Erickson was doing all he could to not break down and flee as he stepped in but he was the only miner left who had worked in the refinery and they needed him to navigate the dark facility.

And Erickson promptly tripped over another corpse with a yelp, eliciting a snicker from Topazini.

They found that there were not many bodies as they made their way down darkened corridors in search of the control room. The only light, if you can call it light, came from the dimly glowing light-bars in the ceiling, like they were slowly burning the last remnants of power from whatever back up generators they were hooked up to.

In fact the light was barely bright enough to be even justified as light.

They came across the odd dead miner or refinery worker but this place was basically deserted of any life. But the debris on the other hand, broken jutting pipes and ripped open grates, were making their progress slow.

"There are a lot less bodies then I thought." Giles said, stepping over an eviscerated corpse.

"When the attacks in the mines started, evacuation of the refinery came into effect." Erickson said. "Unfortunately, not everyone made it out."

"Well, its clear where some of them ended up." Kelso said. "Hived. Hence why there are a shit ton of bugs infesting these tunnels."

"True. But these bodies that we keep finding, they're all low ranked workers." Alaric said, examining the corpse of a worker. "I haven't seen any foremen or admin staff among the dead."

"They were the first to be taken out, likely. You know, cut the head off of the snake and all that. Make everything disorganized for the main attack. Just like at the colony."

Erickson checked the map, scrolling it to the sides and flicking through different levels.

"The first thing we should do is check the control room." Erickson said. "See if the refinery is still working after several weeks of subzero conditions."

Alaric turned to the initiates who, by their postures, were looking quite bored through lack of events.

"You lot fancy scouting on ahead?" He asked in Yautja.

The initiates all nodded eagerly. They had been itching to go and resume their hunt to possibly gather more trophies for Lai'kairis. Especially since Kra'vyx and Ly'enta had yet to bear the Hunter's Mark.

"Go in pairs and make sure to stay in contact with each other." Alaric ordered. "And report if you find anything."

The initiates nodded again and they departed down the corridor, cloaking into the shadows. Mal'fax and Ly'enta went to right of the nearest junction and Kra'vyx and Fel'tak went to the left.

Alaric turned to Erickson.

"Which way to the generators?" Alaric asked.

It had taken them a good hour to locate the main generators, navigating dark and confusing corridors, and get some of them working again. All that was needed was to repair some damaged connections. That took some hard work and a lot of cussing from the marines when things didn't work out the way they wanted.

At least now with the lights working they wouldn't trip over any more bodies and debris.

The initiates soon reported in that they had not seen a living thing in the places that they were able to access but they did find traces of the xenomorphs dating from the refinery's fall. And by traces they meant battle damage ad the dried residue of their characteristic saliva.

Alaric informed them to meet up with him at the foundry.

They finally reached the massive doors that sealed the foundry, blast furnaces and smelters. As expected, the doors were, by design, heavily reinforced. This was so in case the blast furnaces ever malfunctioned and an inferno erupts forth from its superheated structure.

"Andrzej, we have reached the furnace and are preparing to enter." Alaric voxxed.

All he received was static. He tired again and he got the same response. He then muttered that the refinery's structure at this depth were interfering with his coms.

"I guess we're on our own at this point." He said.

He gestured to the marines and then to the initiates to get ready. The marines knelt down and brought their weapons up, aiming at the doors in a firing line. The initiates stood to their flanks in pairs, their weapons poised and combat ready. Alaric stood behind them as he drew Razeal from its holster and cocked it.

Alaric then nodded to Erickson to open the doors as he aimed his pistol and plasma casters locked into position. Erickson walked over to the control pad and punched the button. Nothing happened so he tried again. Still nothing. A flashing display indicated that there was not enough power to operate the doors.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Topazini said, lowering his shotgun.

"Wait a second, there's an emergency release." Erickson said, reaching for a panel labeled 'emergency release'.

He opened the panel and then pulled down the lever. The doors gave a loud click, followed by a loud hiss of escaping pressure and the doors slowly started to grind open, inch by agonizing inch. From inside the foundry, they could feel the heat coming from the reactivated furnaces. And that was a welcome relief to the half frozen initiates.

Waiting for several minutes, which was being torturous at this point, until the doors were opened enough for them to slip through in pairs, Erickson then locked the doors in position.

Alaric moved up to he doors, hugged his back to them and then walked through, plasma casters primed followed by the initiates and then the marines. Erickson followed through last.

The main smelting area and the furnaces that occupied this space was like that of a cathedral. An industrial cathedral. The smelters filled the room like ugly blocky pillars with slag encrusted loading buckets looming overhead. The trench-like molding channels below the massive pouring buckets had solidified metal and slag caught in mid pour and had now each resembled a frozen metal waterfall.

The blast furnaces were chugging away on full power, the heat coming off of them was making the whole area like being in an oven. But needless to say, this was warming up the freezing air nicely so no one was complaining.

They quickly scanned for the people that they thought were in located around the smelters but they weren't picking anything up. Either by motion tracker, thermal vision or any other tracking that the initiates had, they were picking up nothing.

"Wait, this doesn't make sense." Erickson said

Erickson looked at the datapad and then looked around.

"We're in the foundry, but where the hell are the miners?" He said.

"Hiding, likely." Kelso said, sticking his head around the nearest smelter. "Only thing they could do."

He turned to everyone.

"Spread out and try to find them." He ordered.

Giles and Topazini followed suit as Alaric explained to the initiates to do the same. The group went individually towards separate location where a signal was originating and scoured the area looking for a miner. But with every signal they could find no one in its vicinity. It was like they were finding ghosts.

Alaric moved right to the center where the foundry controls were located on a raised platform and searched the place. He found no one hiding about but he found something else entirely. He caught sight on a faint red light that was coming from underneath the grating that he was standing. He knelt down and pulled the grating up with a loud metallic creak.

What he saw under the grating wasn't a miner.

"I found one." Alaric called out, gesturing everyone to gather around as he grabbed what he was talking about. "But I don't think you're gonna like it."

"What is it?" Kelso called out.

Everyone gathered around as Alaric showed what had been making one of the signals. It was a small oval shaped object of Yautja design. Red glyphs glowed on its surface. The humans were puzzled at what this object was

"What's that?" Giles asked.

"That's predator tech!" Topazini exclaimed.

Alaric looked to the initiates.

"Any of you know what this is?" Alaric asked the initiates.

The four of them looked at the device and looked at each other shock in their eyes behind their masks.

"Aren't those suppose to be illegal?" Kra'vyx asked Mal'fax.

"Not illegal. Only Elites and above are allowed them." Mal'fax stated. "But I don't like this."

He looked to Alaric.

"That is an imitator." He explained. "It is designed to mimic life signs in order to... lure in prey."

Alaric looked at the object more closely, reading the glyphs and he could see what lifeform it was set to mimic.

Human.

"It's a trap." He said, bluntly.

A ghostly laughing was heard at that point, echoing around the foundry. And on a hidden signal, two dozen Yautja hunters in full enclosed armored suits and bristling with weaponry materialized into view all around them.

The initiates and Alaric didn't see the hunters on account of the heat haze from the still working furnaces. The emissions were interfering with their masks sensors, making detection far more difficult. And they fact that they must have been standing perfectly still meant that the motion tracker failed to pick them.

In other words, there was no way to know that they had been hiding in the foundry for all this time.

"Are they the rescue party?" Kelso asked.

That was when a multitude of tri-sights homed in on them. Plasma casters soon locked into position and started to charge up.

This was the final proof that they needed.

"Make that hunting party." Alaric said, "Move!"

That was when the air lit up with a barrage of plasma bolts streaming towards the group. Everyone frantically tried to dodge the incoming fire. Giles was cut down before he even had a chance to move, torn apart by the sheer weight of fire in an explosion of gore. Kelso, despite being partially handicapped and half blind, was moving very fast and Topazini was bringing up his tail, firing his shotgun at the Yautja.

"What did I tell you!" He shouted. "Didn't I warn you!"

"Shut up and run!" Kelso shouted, ditching his flamer and pulling out his sidearm.

Nets and bolas went firing after them. Everyone was frantically dodging to avoid being caught. Ly'enta gave out a yelp when a bola wrapped around her legs and she fell hard into the floor.

"Those are not hunters of Lai'kairis!" Mal'fax shouted, drawing his hammer.

Fel'tak had drew his stave into a defensive posture, deflecting another bola as Kra'vyx grabbed Ly'enta by the waist and pulled her along as she untangled herself

"Covering fire!" Alaric shouted, spinning around as his plasma casters blasted out a hailstorm of bolts.

He and the two marines fired their weapons the hunters. It was impossible to even hit the hunters at this moment but if they could get them to keep their heads down that would be enough. Erickson was more intent on getting out of the foundry as he raced to the doors. He was within diving distance of the door and he did dive for it.

"Run for the cargo bays and don't stop for anything!' Alaric yelled.

Alaric skidded into the door back first, shoving everyone through in turn while his plasma casters kept trained on the hunters. Kelso went running through next followed by the initiates and then by Topazini who gave one last blast from his shotgun before passing through.

Alaric could see the hunters were running towards him so he aimed his plasma casters at the nearest smelters. He fired charged shots at the smelters and they both ruptured like watermelons and the molten metal boiling away inside gushed out like magma from a volcano. The closest hunter to him was caught right in the middle of the two waves and his roars of pains were muffled out by the molten metal which began to melt him down. His comrades were forced back as the liquid inferno oozed towards them.

That should buy us a few moments, Alaric thought as he ducked through the doors.

A throttled yelp was heard from in the corridor and Alaric saw that Topazini was impaled through the abdomen on a wickedly serrated glaive and being held up in the air. His assailant then uncloaked and Alaric could see instantly that this one was the leader as denoted by the many gold piercings on his face.

Tan'kor emerged from hiding with a sadistic grin on his pierced face as he looked at the impaled marine. Topazini, blood oozing from his gut and mouth, reared his shotgun to Tan'kors face but it was swatted out of his hand with great force, The weapon clattered to the ground, smashed open by impact of the Yautja's fist and Topazini yelled in pain as he felt his hand break.

Alaric ran to his aid but Tan'kor shot something from his free gauntlet that propelled Alaric all the way down the corridor in a shower of sparks before impacting the far wall. His mask came off when he hit the deck showing his pain wracked features. Alaric writhed in pain as energy surged all over his body, inhibiting his very muscles from moving even an inch.

Tan'kor turned his attention to Topazini.

"I don't think this will be quick, ooman." He said in English, before grinning evilly. "But it'll be interesting."

Alaric, forcing the pain back and slowly heaving himself up could only watch with shock as the casual act of brutality that was to unfold. Tan'kor grabbed Topazini roughly by the head, his talons digging into the marines head and proceeded to pull. Topazini could only desperately grab at Tan'kors hand, frantically trying to get free, as blood started to seep from his neck. Tan'kor started to chuckle as Topazini's bones stated to crack

Then it happened.

With a loud crack of bones and a blood curdling scream from the marine, Topazini's head came snapping off in a gory crimson arc. His headless body immediately went limp and slumped. Tan'kor with a chuckle then casually threw Topazini's brutally severed head hard into the wall behind Alaric.

Alaric could see, as the world slowed, Topazini's last expression of torment before his head exploded against the wall in a bone crunching crack.

Alaric fought against the electrifying pain, which was now subsiding as he stood up and aimed Razeal down at Tan'kor. He then saw that the hunters were now pouring out of the foundry. As much as he hated it, he had to withdraw and link up with the others. He couldn't fight in these conditions against so many.

As he turned, picked up his mask and ran down the corridor, Tan'kor unsheathed his glaive from Topazini's headless corpse which went slumping to the deck.

"Capture the initiates!" Tan'kor commanded to his hunters. "Mal'kah wants them alive!"

His hunters then set off in pursuit in different directions.

* * *

><p>As Alaric reached the upper levels of the refinery, obstructing every door he passed with debris, he was thankful to hear a friendly voice on his coms.<p>

"I repeat! Alaric, Giles, and Topazini went flat lined! What the hell happened?" Andrzej demanded.

"Archangels, it's a trap!" Alaric responded as he dived out of the nearest window and ran along the pipes lining the refinery as a shortcut. "Yautja hunters led us into an ambush! Giles and Topazini are dead! We need evac!"

"Roger that, we're on our way!"

Alaric surveyed the surrounding from his new position and he could see the cargo bay several stories down from his position. And he could just see Erickson tumble outside in exhaustion. Alaric negotiated his way down the pipes and ledges with fluid ease as he saw Kra'vyx, Ly'enta, and Mal'fax appear. Alaric was now at the last ledge and he could see Kelso charging out. Alaric saw that he was too far up to safely jump down so he improvised. He drew one of his hand axes, hopped off the edge and drove his axe into the refinery wall. Sparks erupted from the long gash he tore into the wall as he slid down but he was descending at the safe rate. The falling sparks caught everyone's attention and they looked up to see Alaric free fall the last ten feet.

Alaric landed with a thud from his boots.

"Alaric, we thought they got you!" Kra'vyx said, running up to him

"Almost." Alaric panted, holstering his axe.

Kelso walked up. Alaric could see that the bandages covering his face had come apart revealing his acid burnt and semi fused face.

No doubt he was too close to an exploding xenomorph during the previous attacks.

"Where's Topazini?" he asked.

"Pinfaced bastard tore his fucking head off while he was still alive." Alaric answered.

He looked around as Kelso swore in anger.

"Where's Fel'tak?" Alaric asked the initiates.

"He was blocking off the passages to try and stall them." Ly'enta told him.

She looked back to the cargo bays.

"Here he comes!" She called out.

Fel'tak came running into view from within the cargo bays. He hopped over a dead miner.

"Run! They're right behind me!" He shouted.

He then tripped and face planted into the ground with a loud smack. His legs had been caught in a bola and he was then quickly pulled back into the cargo bays. Erickson gave a frightening yelp and scrambled to get as far from the refinery as he could. He found a vehicle shed and he dived into it before scrambling for a hiding place.

"Oh fuck!" Fel'tak yelled as dug his stave into the deck to prevent himself from going further.

Mal'fax ran to his aid but a cable shot out from the darkness, coiled around the young hunter's neck and with one throttling tug, Fel'tak vanished into the darkness with his stave tearing out of the deck.

Mal'fax was next as a hunter came charging in from nowhere and decked that large initiate with a flying kick to the face. He was then jumped by several more hunters who restrained him and dragged him inside, all the while beating him into submission.

Kra'vyx and Ly'enta charged into the fray to try and help their friend. But despite their determination, they were no match for the more experienced, and more ruthless, hunters. Each were incapacitated in turn and Alaric tried to charge in to help them but a hail of plasma bolts forced him and Kelso into cover behind pipelines and crates where they could only fire pot shots from their pistols in response.

Kra'vyx was smashed into the ground and then restrained while Ly'enta was roughly tackled from behind with a yelp.

Tan'kor was high above them as he watched the one sided fight break out. His lead henchman was beside him. Tan'kor watch as one by one the initiates were subdued and how Alaric and Kelso were driven further ad further away from them.

"What now?" He asked the noble.

"Now we wait." Tan'kor said, moving deeper into the refinery. "And I intend on using these low-born for some amusement in the mean time."

One hunter fired at Kelso as he ducked for cover, which had the misfortune of being right next to a barrel of flammable fuel and the resulting explosion propelled the marine into the open. He groaned in pain from the resulting shrapnel lodged in his body and the flames burning into his flesh as the hunter took aim at him again to finish him off. The tri-sight homed in on his scarred head.

That was when salvation arrived.

The hunter was blown off his feet with a loud bang and with a large hole blown clean through his torso. That caught his fellows attention and they saw lights coming towards them. And roar of an engine and the firing of 20mm guns.

It was the Archangels at last.

The hunters, at the sight of more marines approaching, took this cue to pull back. They got what they came for and now they just need to wait for Alaric to come to them. They kept firing at Alaric to keep him pinned down as they retreated into the refinery, taking the struggling initiates with them.

Alaric could only watch from cover as Kra'vyx and his friends were hauled roughly away. The APC skidded to a halt and the hatch slid open. The squad came piling out, weapons out and ready. Sarah could see Kelso rolling on the ground, trying to extinguish his burning body and she rushed to his aid.

Alaric made a mad dash in pursuit of the hunters who had now vanished from sight in the darkness. But he was stopped by Andrzej and Sven who both grabbed him by the shoulders to prevent from chasing them. The three of them tumbled into he ground as Alaric tried to break free.

"Alaric, What are you doing?" Andrzej demanded.

"I can't let them take them!" Alaric shouted. "I gotta get them!"

"Get them? We barely got you!" Sven stated.

Alaric shoved Sven off of himself, the Norwegian stumbling back. Andrzej pulled himself on top of Alaric using his body weight to pin Alaric to the ground. Alaric was still defiantly trying to move forward as Alaric signaled to Sergei and Hicks to help and both dog piled on Alaric.

"Alaric, Our mission is to insure the survival of the colonists!" Andrzej said.

"That's your mission! Mine is to bring them back safe!" Alaric countered angrily.

Andrzej nodded to Sergei and Hicks and they let him go at that point. He knew that once Alaric had his mind set on something, he wasn't going to let anything stop him, not even his CO. Alaric sat himself down before starting calming down, taking deep breaths.

"Alaric, I understand you had been living with them but don't forget what their race did to you those years before." Andrzej cautioned as he stood up.

"Yes, you said that before." Alaric answered.

Hicks rested his smartgun on the ground and sat down next to Alaric.

"What happened, Alaric?" Hicks asked.

"It was a set-up, all of it." Alaric said, sitting on the ground. "There wasn't anyone alive in the refinery. It only appeared like that because of this."

He pulled out the imitator device from a pouch and showed them.

"This thing and many like it were designed to mimic life signs. To lure us into a killzone."

He tossed it to Hicks who examined it with care.

"Giles was the first to die, torn apart by plasma bolts and then Topazini had his head torn off. While he was still alive. "

Kelso was brought over on a stretcher by Sarah and Mac. He was sedated and his burns had been tended to. But unless he gets proper medical attention, he could end up dying from infection.

"Captain, Kelso has been badly burned." Sarah informed him. "I have sedated him but we need to get him back to the colony immediately."

A roar of an engine was heard, echoing around the courtyard and a pick up truck came trundling into view. Erickson was behind the wheel and he came to skidding stop next to the APC.

"Look what I found!" He said, sticking his head out of the driver's side window.

Alaric clicked his tongue.

"Well, at least one of us survived unscathed." He said.

Sarah gestured to Mac and he nodded. They both carried the unconscious sergeant over to Erickson. Erickson saw the state of Kelso and he cringed at the sight as Mac clambered onto the cargo pad and helped Kelso on board. He hopped off as soon as Kelso was secured as Sarah told Erickson to get back to the colony immediately. Erickson immediately obeyed, as it was the one thing that he agreed on for the whole day, and he drove out of the refinery's courtyard.

Alaric watched as Kelso was taken away.

"Alaric?" Andzrej asked, getting the slayer's attention.

Alaric looked up to the captain.

"Yes?" Alaric asked.

"Why did the predators get captured by their own kind?" Andrzej asked.

"Simply because those Yautja were not from Lai'kairis." Alaric answered. "Mal'fax said so the moment we were attacked."

"Those predators are not from that clan?"

"No. I don't know what clan they're from. I couldn't see any identifying marks. But I think they had been here for some time to spring a trap like that. I won't be surprised if they were the ones who set those bugs on us."

Alaric picked himself up and brushed the snow of himself before walking into the APC. He came back out a few moments later brandishing a pulse rifle and he had the SADAR holstered on his back. He cocked the pulse rifle as Sergei walked up to him

"What are you doing, Alaric?" He asked

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to get them back." Alaric answered.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious about these things. You know that."

Andrzej sighed and joined Sergei in his attempt to stop Alaric, despite knowing the futility of it.

"Alaric, what if this is exactly what those predators want. What if you're going to play right in their hands?" Andrzej questioned.

"We already played into their hands just then. I don't think things can get any worse then that." Alaric replied.

Andrzej knew he was talking to a brick wall whenever it came to these things. Alaric was not one to change minds easily.

"Okay, no point trying to change your mind. But how are you going to get to them?" He asked. "They could've turned the whole refinery into a death trap."

Alaric looked back towards the Archangels' APC. He eyed the bulldozer blade that was locked in position and a slight grin cracked on his face.

"I'm going in fast and hard." He answered.

The Archangels looked to the APC and then to Alaric. A few of them groaned as they realized what Alaric had planned.

"I was afraid of that." Andrzej said, putting his palm on his face. "Fine, let me track where they've been taken."


	16. Chapter 16

Hey all.

This is the last fully written chapter and so updating will be subjective, due to work, college or writting future chapters whichever comes first. However, the next chapter is almost complete with some minor things need to be added.

i thank each of my readers for their positive feedback and so i leave you with this action packed chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 16- Savior<p>

Kra'vyx and his friends had in fact been taken to the other side of the refinery. To the entrance of the mines. This place had been chosen so that Alaric would have to bleed his way through the refinery and the many traps that had been set. And in his weakened state, he could be finished off once and for all. Or at least that was the plan.

Tan'kor had decided to pass the time and make the situation to Alaric much more important. He singled out Kra'vyx for some sparring, for being the most defiant member of the initiates. The _very_ one sided sparing that involved every dirty cheating trick and illegal move in the book. Kra'vyx fell to the ground, taking yet another blow to the head. Coughing up blood, he stubbornly heaved himself to his feet.

The Yautja warriors had his fellow initiates bound, gagged and on their knees, watching as their leader toyed with Kra'vyx from a raised platform in the middle of the yard. Their weapons had been confiscated along with their masks, wrist-comps and other equipment in a pile at the bottom of the platform.

Kra'vyx stood up, shook his head to throw of the daze and he tried to swing a punch at Tan'kor's head but the hunter effortlessly deflected it before giving Kra'vyx another jarring punch to his gut that drove him to the ground again. The arrogant noble bent down and forcefully grabbed Kra'vyx's face, raising him up to eye level.

"What's the matter, kid?" He jeered. "Can't take it?"

Malfax managed to spit out his gag as Tan'kor punched Kra'vyx in the face again, sending the initiate to the ground again.

"You bastard!" Mal'fax shouted out, struggling to help his friend. "Fight him with honor!"

Mal'fax was answered by his captor delivering a jarring punch to the face. Tan'kor snorted in disgust at the mere thought, as Mal'fax was re-gagged. Fel'tak grumbled behind the large gag that had been shoved in his mouth.

"Fight with honor against a low born weakling like this?" He questioned in disgust. "The things they teach inferiors these days."

He then gave Kra'vyx a hard kick in the face and the initiate went into a heap on the ground. Tan'kor snorted in satisfaction as Kra'vyx fumbled to get up. He turned to the bound initiates.

"Low-borns like you pathetic bunch are nothing but dirt, born only to serve us and die." He stated sneeringly.

He walked up to them.

"Your ooman friend will come to rescue you, but when he does, he'll walk right into our trap." Tan'kor told them. "And after he is dead, along with the rest of his wretched line, and you lot have fulfilled your purpose, you will join him afterwards." He then dragged a finger over Ly'enta's forehead, trailing down under her chin. "You, on the other hand, have another purpose to fulfill." He added smugly, relishing the shocked and frightened eyes of the young female. "And if you're lucky, and good enough, I might even consider keeping you alive."

He then walked away from them, past the barely moving Kra'vyx before walking up to a nasty looking tunnel in the wall. It was roughly two meters tall and one-and-a-half meters wide and it was lined with a combination of jagged crystal-like ice and rock that glinted with malice. He reached down and picked up a miner's corpse laying next to the tunnel. He looked back to the initiates and sported a nasty grin.

"Praise be the gods for providing me with a garbage disposal for your filth." He said.

He then hurled the corpse with great speed into the tunnel and the initiates could see the dead human get shredded by the ice and rock . Tan'kor chuckled at the sight of the initiates frightened expressions.

By now, Kra'vyx had somehow managed to get up on his knees. He looked up to Tan'kor and grunted in defiance. Tan'kor raised a brow at Kra'vyx's stubbornness.

"Are you serious?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Do you honestly think a low-born like you has any chance against a superior specimen like me?"

Kra'vyx had been taught by his mother and Alaric not to fear bastards like Tan'kor. As Alaric had always put it 'Those who prey on the weak are weak themselves', and had Zel'tyr heartily agreed with him.

"You may kill us... but Alaric will not let any of you get away with it." Kra'vyx said, standing up. "Especially a sadistic, dishonorable, and inferior warrior like you."

That sentence had definitely stung Tan'kor to the core there, though he didn't show it. So much that Tan'kor just whipped out his plasmacaster and shot Kra'vyx dead center in the chest without a word. Kra'vyx was blown off his feet and landed hard on the ground, his armor blowing apart into glowing fragments that peered around the area like ember from a fire. The thermal vest underneath was melted and charred and he strained as the burning material stuck to his flesh. Tan'kor walked up to Kra'vyx and gave him a fierce stomp to the gut, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. Kra'vyx rolled onto his side and then Tan'kor gave him a brutal kick to the face. Kra'vyx sprawled on the ground, dazed and unable to move any more. Tan'kor grunted in satisfaction turned to his subordinates.

"Get into your positions and prepare to end that accursed bloodline once and for all." He ordered before grabbing Kra'vyx by the throat. "Anymore defiance from you and you will beg me for death in the end."

Kra'vyx could only grunt as he felt Tan'kors talons dig into his neck. Tan'kor's followers bowed their heads and went into their positions, activating their cloak fields as Tan'kor dragged Kra'vyx by the throat. The ones guarding the initiates stayed where they were to act as bait for Alaric. The hunters who were guarding the initiates remained uncloaked and Tan'kor, the arrogant bastard he was, stood like a pillaging warlord guarding his treasure. He didn't even bother to activate his cloak field in confidence that the plan would succeed, and his arrogance was going to take a blow right down to the core.

A low rumbling was heard coming from all around them. Like the sound of a herd of stampeding animals. And it was slowly getting louder. Tan'kor looked unnerved by the sounds that were echoing around them, reverberating off the rock and ice walls.

"I thought you said the Primarch wasn't any where near us!" Tan'kor shouted to his nearest subordinate.

Kra'vyx, silently listening under the guise of half consciousness, processed that word. _'Primarch? Wasn't that the name of the God-Prey in the legends?'_

The hunter looked around the cavern, listening to the rumblings.

"That is not the Primarch." He answered. "That isn't even Kainde Amedha. It's not even organic."

What the hunter said was true as the sound was now taking on a more mechanical tone to its roar. This in turn was muffled by the sound of distant crashing. The sound of metal walls being torn from their fittings. That was the moment when a rude awakening happened. The refinery wall half collapsed, half exploded in a spectacular fashion, sending fragments of wall flying everywhere and the hulk of the Archangels' APC came roaring into view. Smashing through a wall, possibly a whole refinery of reinforced metal had done a number on the vehicle. The dozer blade had been completely buckled, it's frontal armor had been partially beaten off, the windscreen was smashed open and in the driver seat was an equally beaten up Alaric who was feverishly manhandling the controls.

Tan'kor was shocked to find that Alaric had completely circumnavigated their trap in a completely unexpected way. He had come right through the refinery instead of navigating around it. He didn't think the humans had anything with the ability to reach them. It seemed that their surveillance had failed them for once. That or they had seriously underestimated Alaric's resolve.

"We can't die yet, guys!" Alaric yelled out over the roar of the engine. "Hold on!"

Tan'kor then snapped out of his shocked stupor as the APC went steamrolling towards them. The defensive grenade launchers on its hull then fired out EMP grenades in all directions, impacting the surroundings in lightning storms that forced the cloaked hunters into visibility.

"Don't just stand there! Kill him!" Tan'kor commanded to his subordinates. The warriors and hunters opened fire with their plasma casters, spear guns and other projectile weapons, to a limited extent since their targeting systems were knocked out.

The APC's armor was holding against the incoming fire, as can be expected from an Archangel transport with Alaric ducking under the controls, the APC swerving to the left. He kept the APC at full speed, aiming for a bunched up group of warriors that were holding their ground. He forced down the accelerator levers and bolted to the APC's hatch before diving out of the APC. He rolled hard into the ground, crashing behind some crates as the APC went smashing into the adjacent cavern wall, crushing the Yautja warriors into the rock wall with a loud crash. Falling rock and ice cascaded down and green blood oozed from between the APC and wall from the resulting road kill. The initiates took their chance and half rolled, half shuffled into cover, dropping off the platform and rolling behind crates and vehicles.

Kra'vyx meanwhile was still grabbed around the neck by Tan'kor as he was dragged off to a safer position. Alaric pulled up his pulse rifle, and Razeal, in both hands while his plasma casters locked into combat position by the time he stopped rolling, and he sprinted around at blurring speed.

Alaric fired his pulse rifle and Razeal in succession while his plasma cannons tore the air in a hailstorm of blue arcs. Projectiles from both sides were filling the air, impacting in showers of sparks against any surface hit and any rounds that impacted each other.

The hunters were being mowed down at an alarming rate, torn apart by the sheer number of projectiles being fired at them, their armor was doing very little to protect them while their weak spots were being exploited with expert precision.

Alaric was dodging everything being thrown at him in blurring maneuvers and acrobatic parkour moves. One of the most spectacular was when he went vaulting from on top of a crate, roundhouse kicked a hunter in the face and then blew his throat out with Razeal before he even landed on the ground.

"How is this ooman so fast!" A hunter yelled before his head exploded in a shower of gore as Alaric landed on his feet.

Alaric dived behind a concrete barrier, holstering his spent pistol before he vaulted over it with a loud roar and one of his hand axes drawn as he charged, his eyes flashing crimson and hair morphed into his crown of spikes as the Rage set in. The nearest hunter stood no chance as Alaric split him in half from head to groin, in a spectacular shower of green blood and gore that flew everywhere.

Another hunter drew his stave and tried to block Alaric, but the axe sliced right through the stave in sparks and his torso soon left his legs in a green arc. The few warriors that were not cut down in the crossfire made the foolish decision to engage Alaric at close quarters, drawing staves, wrist-blades and other melee weapons as they entered the fray. They thought that they would have a better chance of killing the slayer if they ganged up on him.

Alaric mercilessly engaged them with lightning fast speed and precision, honed over a lifetime of training, conditioning, and near-death situations. He would dodge an attack, followed by cutting his opponent down in quick succession when they were exposed.

"Get behind him, you fools!" Tan'kor commanded. "Don't give him room to maneuver!"

One hunter made the mistake of making a flying leap at Alaric when his back was turned. Alaric, in his heightened state, sensed the impending threat and dived out of the way. He brought up the pulse rifle to meet the flying hunter. And before the hunter could even scream, Alaric squeezed the grenade launcher's trigger. Suffice to say, the hunter ended up as a bright green firework display, sending gore and shrapnel in all directions. What was left of the hunter was nothing more than an immolated ripped open carcass that went tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Alaric hurled his pulse rifle into the hands of one hunter before throwing his axe at another, embedding into his chest and leaving him staggering as his blood left his body in a torrent. Alaric promptly flipped over the top of him, grabbed him by the neck, and pulled him over backwards. Alaric landed on his feet and snapped the hunter's neck like a twig before pulling his axe back and then decapitating the hunter holding his pulse rifle in quick succession. All in the blink of an eye.

At this point, one of the few surviving hunters made the only wise decision of the fight and turned tail to run down the tunnels. Tan'kor, standing several feet in front of the razor ice tunnel could only watch with shock and most likely fear in his eyes as he watched his Elite hunters getting mowed down like grass by a single human.

The initiates watched from their hiding places with awe, fighting the urge to yell out praise and support to Alaric, lest they get captured again.

Kra'vyx's battered face opened one eye and saw that, as evident by the growing number of bodies, Alaric was making mince meat out of the hunters. He smiled and started to laugh.

"Who's inferior now?" He wheezed.

Tan'kor looked down at Kra'vyx and snarled. "Silence, scum!" He commanded.

Kra'vyx gave the noble a piercing leer. There was now a different tone in the noble's voice. Something that despite masking it, it was prevalent over the anger, and that was fear.

"You're scared. I can hear it in your voice." Kra'vyx pointed out. "All your speeches of superiority are nothing but a smokescreen for your own fear, ignorance, and cowardice. Then again, that's your only defense because you're obviously too weak to challenge him any other way."

Tan'kor growled in hesitation as he looked up in time to see Alaric brutally finish off the last hunter by smashing his head into the ground, breaking his neck with a stomp, and then decapitating him with a swing from his axe like a pro golfer, sending the head rolling a few feet away. In truth, Tan'kor was in a brown loincloth moment. He realized, from the moment Alaric began cutting down his hunters that he was no match for Alaric head on. And it was unlikely that he would be able to escape the Slayer's wrath. All of his hunters, were either dead, or had fled the area to save their own lives.

In his arrogance, he had ignored Mal'kah's warning. He thought of the glory of being the one to kill the slayer rather then just crippling him.

Alaric then set his eyes on Tan'kor, who still had Kra'vyx by his throat. Seeing how beaten up Kra'vyx was made his blood run like liquid fire. His eyes flashed crimson with more intensity as he growled with ferocity.

He raised his pulse rifle's barrel to the Yautja's head and started to pace forward. Tan'kor at that point, in a clear sign of desperation, did something very, very stupid.

"Hold it!" Tan'kor yelled, bringing a battered Kra'vyx up. "That's close enough, Slayer!"

Alaric stopped, panting and bleeding as he still held the pulse rifle and his plasma casters pointing at the noble, smoke seeping from their glowing overheating barrels. His axe was slick and dripping with glowing green blood.

Tan'kor then brought his dagger up to Kra'vyx's throat, provoking a grunt from the initiate. Alaric, after a moment's reluctance and the fact that he couldn't let Kra'vyx and his friends become innocent victims of his rage, spat blood out of his mouth as he dropped the spent pulse rifle and axe before his plasma casters retracted. His eyes dulled and his hair draped back down.

Tan'kor's arrogance came back out now that Alaric wasn't going to fight. Looks like something of his shot down plan of glory had finally worked.

"That's it." Tan'kor mockingly applauded, loosening his grip around Kra'vyx's neck slightly. "Now, the inferior is showing some intelligence."

But the hunter's arrogance was coming back to bite him in the ass as Alaric heaved up the SADAR missile launcher onto his shoulder and aimed it at him.

The hunter's eyes went wide in shock and disbelief as a laser sight homed in on his chest before stoping right between his eyes. The cruel irony. Tan'kor's mind was now full of panic and disbelief. The human was crazy enough to use a weapon of that power in a moment like this?

"No way! You're bluffing!" The Yautja yelled in disbelief. "You'll never risk killing your friend!"

He then drew Kra'vyx right into line of fire as a living shield.

Kra'vyx reached to his belt and pulled out the one thing that Tan'kor didn't notice. It was a jagged piece of metal, no doubt a shard from his armor, ending in a wicked barb and he carefully gripped it before winking to Alaric that he was ready.

Alaric snarled, showing his blood stained teeth as his finger squeezed the trigger. "A Slayer never bluffs, Coward!" He said in a snarling growl as his eyes flashed.

The SADAR fired in an almighty roar, a plume of flaming exhaust and snow billowed around Alaric while the rocket went flying. Tan'kor couldn't believe that Alaric had done that and was too shocked to even drop Kra'vyx.

Kra'vyx took his chance as he swung the metal shard and slammed it right into Tan'kor's chest, penetrating between his armored plates, and digging right into his lower ribs, freeing himself and dived out of the way, bracing himself for the detonation.

The noble flinched in pain from that escape, instinctively clasping the shard with one hand, failing to pull it free and looked up to see the missile detonate in front of him in an almighty bang. A massive fireball erupted and the hunter was sent hurling backwards in flames from the concussive shockwave. He flew right into the jagged ice tunnel in a nice flaming arc. The noble screamed in tormented agony as he was torn apart in gory glowing flaming chunks on the ice.

The trash had finally been taken out.

Alaric dropped the spent SADAR launcher with a loud thud on the metal decking, spat some blood out of his mouth, and limped over to Kra'vyx, picking up his axe on the way. The young hunter heaved himself up, holding his throbbing head. Alaric helped him up as the initiates hobbled out of their hiding places.

"You okay Kra'vyx?" He asked.

"I've gone deaf!" Kra'vyx wheezed.

"At least you're not dead." Alaric told him, gesturing with his eyes to the tunnel.

Kra'vyx looked up and saw the green stained tunnel with the shreds of Yautja flesh adhered to the jagged ice lining. His eyes went wide as he saw the massive spread of gore and he hobbled over for a closer look, using the wall to support himself. Alaric meanwhile drew his knife and started to free the others.

"By the gods, you did a number on him." Kra'vyx said, peering down the gore encrusted tunnel.

"Kra'vyx, stop gaping at the blood and guts of that bastard, and help me." Alaric said, cutting Mal'fax free. Mal'fax immediately started nursing his throbbing head as Kra'vyx hobbled over to their pile of confiscated gear and picked up his kataras.

Mal'fax did the same with his hammer as Alaric moved over to Ly'enta.

"You lot okay?" Alaric asked as he un-gagged and cut Ly'enta free.

Kra'vyx, after some fumbling, cut Fel'tak free with his katara and Fel'tak immediately went for the gag in his mouth.

"As fine as can be expected after being a hostage." Ly'enta said, rubbing her wrists. "Don't you think that explosion was just a bit of overkill?"

Alaric just shrugged his shoulders as he stood up and holstered his axe.

"Why did you drop your weapon in first place?" Fel'tak said, chucking his gag over his shoulder. "You could have just shot him in the head."

"I would've, but I ran out of bullets." Alaric said, reloading Razeal. "Let's just hope we wouldn't need that SADAR in the future."

At that point, Alaric's coms chimed. "Alaric, this is Andrzej." The Captain voxxed in. "There was an explosion. Did you set your friends free?"

"Yeah." Alaric answered. "They're beat up but they're walking."

"And the hostiles?"

"All dead, their leader especially. But I seemed to have wrecked the APC a bit."

There was a slight pause. "Define 'A bit'?" Andrzej demanded.

"I rammed it through refinery walls and then smashed into a rock face, crushing several Yautja." Alaric explained. "The dozer blade took the brunt of the punishment."

"That's all? Well, at least you didn't pull another exploding ram like you did with our last one. Are all the hostiles neutralized?"

"All that was here. There may be a few stragglers hiding about in the refinery. Even saw one of them high tail it out of here."

"I'm not surprised with the way you get riled."

Fel'tak, having a vague idea of what Alaric was talking about, interrupted.

"Well, let the demon Kainde Amedha handle those. We need to get back to the ooman colony." Fel'tak said, picking up his glaive.

Alaric just held a hand up, shutting up Fel'tak.

Fel'tak had distracted Alaric just as Andrzej said something important.

"What was that, Captain?" Alaric asked.

"The first attacks on the colony were not far from your position. Somewhere in the mines." Andrzej voxxed. "Alaric, I hate to ask you this but we need you to find out where exactly they are coming from."

Alaric grumbled as he heard the order.

"How did I know you were going to tell me that?" He said.

"I'm sorry, but you and your friends are the closest that we have ever got to the hive. If you can find the hive and collapse the tunnels leading to it, it will increase our chances for survival dramatically."

"Well, I just used the SADAR on their leader. What do I use to collapse a tunnel aside from hacking away like a frenzied lumberjack?"

"We prepared for that earlier in case we got this chance. There's a stash of mining charges and demo kits in the APC. Find out where the bugs are coming from and bring down that entrance."

"I'm on it. What about the rest of the squad?"

"We'll salvage some transport for us and you. We'll try to keep the way back to the colony clear as long as we can, but be prepared for the event of being cut off. Just in case."

"Roger that."

"I'm sending the coordinates and information. Good luck, Reaper."

Alaric turned to the initiates who were watching. He sighed as he broke the news to them.

"Guys, we're not done yet." He told them.

Outbursts erupted from the initiates.

"Not leaving?" Fel'tak blurted. "What the hell for?"

"We have a chance to find the hive and seal it off. We're not exactly in the state to hold off another attack from the bugs, now are we?"

"And we're not in the state to go wandering off in those tunnels either." Fel'tak countered.

"Strike first before the prey does." Mal'fax said. "Code of the Hunter. We all know this."

"Well, if it doesn't stop them then at least it will slow them down and give time for Lai'kairis to get here." Ly'enta added.

"The lesser of two evils." Alaric added.

Kra'vyx then started to cough hard, bringing up clotting blood before dropping to his knees in pain.

Ly'enta and Mal'fax quickly knelt down to his side. Alaric bent down and quickly examined his chest, properly seeing the damage clearly for the first time. He saw that Kra'vyx's destroyed armor's jagged and melted openings were digging into his chest, adding more injuries to his charred and battered body. His thermal vest was melted and stuck fast to his skin.

Alaric was amazed and shocked at the amount of punishment that the young initiate had taken. Maybe his training had worked better for Kra'vyx then he first thought.

"Help him." Alaric said. "He's not much use in this condition."

Ly'enta and Mal'fax went about helping their friend, laying him on his back and trying removing his destroyed armor. It was obvious that Kra'vyx had cracked ribs, maybe bruised lungs from the way he bent over in pain. And he also had bad swelling and bruises from where he was struck repeatedly in the face.

'_What did that bastard do to you, Kra'vyx?'_ Alaric thought.

Kra'vyx was having trouble to stop coughing. He had to cough to get rid of the blood that was clogging his lungs but that meant pain erupting from his battered and burnt chest so he was stuck in a vicious cycle of endless discomfort.

Mal'fax went about trying to keep him down while Ly'enta tried to administer painkillers. But Kra'vyx, in his pain induced throes, was thwarting their efforts.

Fel'tak, the least hurt of the initiates, was keeping a lookout in case any of those hunters or xenomorphs would strike at this vulnerable moment. Kra'vyx's loud coughing was not helping their precarious situation.

"Can't you keep him quiet?" He asked.

"I'd like to see you in his state!" Mal'fax barked.

"Stop arguing!" Ly'enta snapped as Kra'vyx gave off a loud retch.

They had to get Kra'vyx's breathing normal otherwise he couldn't be helped. Alaric then did a little trick that was known for calming people, a relatively simple trick. Fumbling around for something in a pouch, he pulled out a survival flare. A bit big for his liking but it had to do. He ripped the cap off and the end erupted into red flames, catching everyone's attention. He ushered Ly'enta out of the way and brought the flame over Kra'vyx's head to get his attention.

"Kra'vyx." He said, reassuringly in a calm soothing tone. "Look at the flame."

He then slowly waved the flare from side to side. Kra'vyx's eyes followed the flare. His friends just watched as Alaric did his work in calming their wounded friend. Kra'vyx seemed hypnotized by the red flames as Alaric continued to keep him fixated on the flare. Like a snake following a piper's flute.

"Look at the flame." Kra'vyx's coughing was slowly dispersing and his breathing was becoming more relaxed as his eyes kept following the flame.

"Look at the flame." Kra'vyx had now gone completely relaxed and his breathing was now steady and the coughs had begun to subside; only the slight occasional cough escaped his mouth.

Alaric turned to Ly'enta who was preparing the needle. "Okay, tend to him." He said, tossing the flare away.

Ly'enta administered the shot into Kra'vyx's neck. Kra'vyx grunted from the needle and Mal'fax brought up some healing salve. Alaric got up.

"I'd never have thought of that." Ly'enta said as she smeared salve onto Kra'vyx's battered face.

"Clearly, you've never seen or read Band of Brothers." He said to her before turning to Mal'fax."Support him when he's able to move."

Alaric left the two of them to tend to Kra'vyx, unlatching his useless armor and peeling the melted vest from his flesh as the initiate winced from the tugging of his flesh.

Alaric walked over to the smashed up APC, picking up the pulse rifle he dumped along the way and clambered inside the messed up interior. The entire compartment was in a complete mess resulting from the many battering ram maneuvers he'd made while moving towards the initiates' rescue. He went about scavenging what was of use, chucking things not of use over his shoulder. He found the mining charges and the demo kit in a secure overhead compartment. He also grabbed another pulse rifle and what little ammunition he could find for it from the weapons locker before stowing it into a bag. He also grabbed a bolt-gun and a drum of bolts for some added punch. To top his whole findings off, he found some spare thermal gear and popped them on his shoulders.

He sighed to himself. _'I almost failed Ja'anya there.'_ He thought angrily. _'I won't let it happen again.'_

He hopped out of the APC with his scavenged loot. Alaric saw that Kra'vyx was now sitting on his own as Ly'enta finished tending to his wounds. He had the healing salve administered to his chest and his face before protective coverings were wrapped around him. The pain meds were now keeping him oblivious to the pain. Alaric walked over to the initiates and placed the weapons on the ground, catching their attention. He grabbed the pulse rifle he'd been using and reloaded it, slamming the new magazine in place and thumbing grenades to the grenade launcher before cocking it.

He handed it Fel'tak before loading the second rifle. He then loaded up the bolt gun and handed it over to Mal'fax.

"Since you lot haven't got any ranged capabilities, I'll run you through this quick." He said as he held up the rifle he was using.

"This is a spec ops variant pulse rifle." He described, pointing to the relevant parts.

"10mm bullpup assault rifle with built in under slung 30mm pump action grenade launcher. Fires armor piercing rounds at 750 rounds per second along with high explosive grenades. Reflex sights for aiming per standard and the magazine contains a standard 95 rounds of ammunition." He then held the weapon in the correct manner, with barrel pointing down to the ground and the butt firmly into his shoulder.

"Aim down the sight, line 'em up and squeeze the trigger." He said, aiming at a crate. He then fired a burst and the rounds impacted the crate, punching holes in showers of sparks.

"You got that?" He asked. It was evident from the initiates' faces that it went way above their heads.

"So... you point this at the prey and squeeze the trigger?" Fel'tak queried.

Alaric nodded and then gestured to the crate. Fel'tak followed what Alaric did, only that he pressed the wrong trigger by mistake. The grenade launcher gave out a loud bang followed by the crates exploding in a huge fireball. Bits of incinerated crate went flying in smoking arcs all around. Fel'tak's eyes went wide at the destruction he caused. Alaric rolled his eyes, reached over, and cocked the pulse rifle's launcher. The spent shell pinged out and the fresh shell slid into the breech.

"Squeeze _this_ trigger." He clarified, pointing at the correct part.

Fel'tak clicked his mandibles in embarrassment.

"Still. If you want something dead immediately, the grenade launcher is the way to go." Alaric added. "Just make the shot count."

He then moved to Mal'fax.

"This is a mining bolt-gun, used for punching holes in rock faces for anchor points." he explained, showing Mal'fax the workings of the tool.

"Works via the magnetic rail method, using magnetic force to propel bolts at high velocity. These 14mm tungsten alloy bolts have more penetration then a pulse rifle but it is limited to single shots only. This drum holds ten bolts. Make every one count."

Mal'fax nodded and he tried it out on a rock face, aiming for a hanging stalactite. He fired and a bolt went flying out and impacted the base of the spire. Large cracks formed in its wake and the piece of rock then snapped off and crashed into the ground. Mal'fax gave a content grunt to himself.

"Not bad for human technology." He said.

"Well, that's good to hear." Alaric added. "You and Fel'tak scrounge for anything of use from those hunters. It's not like they're gonna need it."

Mal'fax nodded and walked over to Fel'tak who was now holding the pulse rifle correctly. Mal'fax told him to salvage for supplies from the dead hunters. Alaric turned to Kra'vyx who was still sitting down. He saw that Kra'vyx was starting to shiver slightly from the cold, now that he had no thermal heating from his armor. Ly'enta was busy placing her own thermal pads onto him.

"Here, get him into these." He said, dumping the thermal gear in front of her.

Ly'enta removed the pads and then she and Alaric started to help Kra'vyx into the largest jacket that he found, helping Kra'vyx lift his arms into the sleeves. It took some effort but they were able to fit him inside and zipped him up. The jacket fit snuggly on him.

'_Ja'anya and Zel'tyr are gonna flip the bend when they see him.'_ He thought.

Ly'enta attached the thermal packs into the jacket pockets. Alaric then put the jacket's hood up to keep Kra'vyx's head warm.

"Kra'vyx, are you okay to move." Alaric asked.

Kra'vyx simply nodded, still drugged at the moment to speak. Alaric bent down and with Ly'enta's aid, they helped Kra'vyx to his feet. Alaric looked around, saw one of the hunters' staves laying nearby and went to pick it up. He then came back and gave it to Kra'vyx as a prop. Ly'enta kept Kra'vyx steady as Kra'vyx put his weight on the stave. Mal'fax and Feltak came back to them, their arms full of salvaged gear. They both had surprised expressions because of the things that they found.

"Have you seen some of the gear these guys were packing?" Fel'trak said, dumping his load to the ground. From the myriad of items, ranging from weapons, tools and hunting gear, that he and Kra'vyx had scavenged, it was clear that these hunters were professionals, well equipped and totally devoted to winning by any means. Illegal means.

"You'd be severely punished, maybe even executed, if you were caught even holding one of these." Mal'fax said, holding up a vial of lava like liquid.

"This stuff makes even breathing and the circulation of blood excruciatingly painful." Mal'fax said nervously.

Alaric, upon seeing the vial, went silent. The mere sight of the glowing liquid brought the memory of that night back into his mind.

* * *

><p><em>Alaric opened the door and the screams from his wife, Sam, and their son, Ares, grew louder. But before he could even see what was happening, he felt two things impale him in the chest, slicing through and between his ribs. Alaric fell to ground hard. When he instinctively pulled the two wrist-blades out of his chest, he saw glowing rivulets of orange dripping down into his body. And the pain that followed, like xenomorph acid pumping and burning through his veins, was something that even he had trouble suppressing. His vision was going blurred as his senses were overloaded and he strained to see what was going on. What he saw, as best as he could focus, was horrifying.<em>

_Sam was being violently raped by Sil'cais the Scourged while another Yautja was pinning her down and Ares, chained against the wall, was sadistically tortured by a large hulking Yautja and by a more lithe but somehow cold and calculating Yautja. Alaric strained against the ungodly pain coursing through his body as he gripped the blades in his hands, drawing his own blood and throwing them blindly. His efforts were greeted by a pained yell coming from a fifth Yautja. Alaric lifted his head and saw the Yautja clutching at his face, blood seeping from where the left eye used to be. The Yautja caught sight of Alaric struggling to pull himself up, pointed at him and roared._

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><p>"Alaric?" Ly'enta asked, shaking his shoulder. Alaric came round from his silence and memory and stood up.<p>

"You were hit with this stuff?" Mal'fax guessed, lowering the vial.

"And it's something I won't forget any time soon." Alaric said, taking the vial from Mal'fax. "Still, something like this might come in handy." He slipped the vial into a pouch before focusing on the pile of salvaged gear.

"Everyone, gear up." Alaric said, reaching down into the pile.

Among other things that were salvaged were pieces of armor that Alaric hadn't torn apart with his axe. Mal'fax was already attaching armor to his arms and legs before grabbing the largest armored cuirass he could find to replace his ruined scale vest. Fel'tak was doing the same, armoring up his torso but leaving his limbs lightly armored for quicker movements. Ly'enta chose the lightest armor that she could find so her mobility would not be compromised. Alaric didn't choose any extra armor, stating that he was the least vulnerable or beat up out of all of them, apart from patching up his armor from his crash course through the refinery in the APC and then flying dive into those crates. The only things he did take were small metallic disks that Mal'fax confirmed to be plasma barriers, devices that create a barrier of burning plasma to block means of entry from hostiles. Alaric decided that these would be useful in slowing down the bugs if they were ever discovered and he popped them into one of his pouches. Kra'vyx, in a remarkable show of determination, was now heaving himself up more on the stave and struggling to maintain balance in his drugged state.

Mal'fax saw him trying and reached down to help his friend onto his shoulder. Ly'enta came up to attach segmented plates to Kra'vyx's chest and the back of his jacket for added protection. Alaric slipped on and checked his mask as he typed in the coordinates that Andrzej sent to him as the initiates prepared. Using the map data and survivor reports that he had examined back at the colony, he was soon able to get a rough location of where the first attacks originated. And conveniently, it wasn't that far from their current position. Only several kilometers into the mines.

"I have the location." He told the initiates, getting their attention. "Are you all ready?"

They all responded in turn, apart from Kra'vyx who simply nodded his head. Kra'vyx was doing everyone proud for holding up after all the damage that had been inflicted on him. Alaric could see that they were now armored and well equipped. They were now more like proper hunters rather then the poorly equipped and out of place initiates that had crash landed on this ice world. Like Alaric had said, Adapt or die. And the initiates were adapting.

"Right, lets go." Alaric said, turning to the mines entrance. "The faster we do this, the faster we can leave."

And with that, Alaric led them down into the mines, cocking his pulse rifle and switching his cloak field on. The initiates followed suit, Fel'tak grumbling that this was a bad idea with Mal'fax hushing him, and like ghosts, they vanished into the darkness of the mines. Like the souls of the dead flowing to the Underworld.

* * *

><p>"Tan'kor is overdue." Mal'kah said, typing into his wrist-comp.<p>

Qul'dan didn't pay attention, simply continuing to punch the rock wall. Whether he was taking out his stress from being denied a fight, not being allowed to follow Tan'kor and the hunters or if he was simply sparring wasn't known. But judging from the increasing pile of gravel that was accumulating around his feet, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Mal'kah watched as the brawler delivered some punishing blows that caused fragments of rock to chip off the wall and hairline fractures to snake across like a spider's web.

"Qul'dan. If you keep punching that wall, this whole mountain will colapse on itself." Mal'kah warned, halfheartedly.

Qul'dan ignored him as he delivered a fierce punch to the wall, the rock on the wall gave off a loud crack and then the wall's punished rock layer collapsed around him in a small avalanche of rubble. Qul'dan dusted his hands, stepped out of the rubble and turned to the veteran.

"If you are finished causing planetary destruction, I said Tan'kor is overdue." Mal'kah stated.

Qul'dan cracked his knuckles. The look on his face betrayed his contempt for that noble. "I couldn't care less whether that inbred moron is late or early." He answered. "He's probably doing what he does best. Rubbing his breeding into everyone's face and torturing 'low-borns'. He's likely torturing those initiates."

Mal'kah's wrist-comp bleeped, getting the veteran's attention. The surveillance drone was in connection and it was where Tan'kor was holding the initiates. Mal'kah punched in some keys and the holographic display projected what the drone was seeing to him and Qul;dan. Mal'kah raised an eyebrow while Qul'dan's eyes went wide.

"Well, that went as well as I can expect from him." Mal'kah said. What was shown was the aftermath of a massacre at the mines' entrance. There were the hunters, dead, gore soaked and eviscerated into many pieces or partially whole. The drone patrolled around the area, revealing more carnage and destruction before focusing on the Archangels' APC that was partially embedded into the wall and a large green puddle was pooled around it.

"How did that ooman cause so much death?" Qul'dan asked. "Do you see that one there? Completely sliced in two."

"Alaric clearly went into his Rage." Mal'kah concluded. "Hence the amount of damage inflicted everywhere."

Qul'dan looked around and he could not see whether or not any of the bodies was Tan'kor. Much to his annoyance.

"Where's Tan'kor?" Qul'dan asked. "Is he in some hidden corner in the fetal position while pissing himself?"

Mal'kah gave Qul'dan a disapproving look.

"If he's lucky." The veteran answered. "But I don't think Alaric would give him the chance, especially if Tan'kor did something to really infuriate him."

Mal'kah sighed. "Looks like we have only one choice." He concluded. "They will have to come back that way in order to get back to the other oomans. So, naturally, we won't let that happen."

Mal'kah switched the display off and flipped his wrist-comp shut. Qul'dan started to eagerly clench his hands, his knuckles cracking. He knew that, at last, he was going to get his hands on Alaric and the initiates and he was going to relish every part of the fight that was to come. Mal'kah saw that Qul'dan was getting excited by the prospect.

"You're that eager to fight him?" Mal'kah asked.

"Aren't you?" Qul'dan countered.

Mal'kah rubbed his eye plate as the phantom itch returned. In truth, he did want to pay Alaric back for his eye. He did, in a warrior's view, want vengeance against Alaric for his disfigurement. An eye for an eye as the old saying goes.

"Entirely professional." Mal'kah clarified.

"Me? Well, I'm always up for fighting him again." Qul'dan said. "Maybe he'll stay down this time but I wouldn't mind going for thirds."

"As much as your eagerness is somewhat commendable, our lord doesn't want him reappearing a third time." Mal'kah slipped his mask on and Qul'dan did the same.

"Very well. It is time to tend to this matter personally." Mal'kah declared, fading into nothing as his cloak field engaged as Quld'an followed suit.


	17. Chapter 17

Hey everyone.

Sorry about the wait but this one had been giving me writer's block on what to write.

As always, leave me a constructive review or two.

* * *

><p>Chapter 17- A forgotten monument.<p>

After what felt like several hours of navigating deeper into the labyrinth-like mines, the small band of initiates had finally reached the location of the first attacks against the mining colony. They were in a small excavated cavern at the lowest levels that had not yet been mined. The seams of ore, encased like arteries in the walls, were untouched and the machinery and tools that were lying around in the snow had barely been used.

There were no dead miners or marine guards here, no doubt the first to be taken to be used as hosts. There was no sign that any human had ever been down here.

"Here we are." Alaric said, looking around and decloaking. "The site of the first attacks."

The initiates decloaked too after some hesitation. They looked around, expecting to see the entrance from which the Xenomorphs attacked the colony. There was nothing that they could detect that the Xenomorphs had been here. There were no tracks or anything.

Just like in the tunnel, the Xenomorphs were hiding their presence.

Fel'tak checked his mask's multiple visions.

"I don't see anything." he confirmed. "Nothing's lurking in wait for us."

"Search around. There must be a tunnel or passageway." Alaric ordered.

Leaving Kra'vyx to rest against a drill rig, the rest of the initiates went about searching for where the Xenomorphs gained entry to the mines.

It was evident that wherever the Xenomorphs entered was well concealed or was not in this sector exactly. The information Andrzej sent was rough at best, much like all their information on this genus of Xenomorph. Alaric directed Mal'fax to examine the ground for any tunnel, Fel'tak to check the north, Ly'enta to the east while Kra'vyx volunteered, in a show of determination against his injuries, to head to the west while he checked the south.

They spent the next half hour searching for a tunnel, a fissure, anything that would allow those Xenomorphs entry but there was nothing. Their masks were not able to detect anything, designed for hunting prey, not even holes in a wall.

Fel'tak was busy mumbling about the futility of finding anything while Ly'enta was fervently jabbing the walls with her hand, looking for a loose section of rock. Mal'fax gave the walls taps with his hammer, the ringing of metal against rock echoing in the mines. Kra'vyx in the meantime was just trying to keep his balance, almost falling over before Alaric abandoned his search and rushed to his side.

Alaric caught Kra'vyx before he hit the ground.

"Kra'vyx, don't push yourself too hard." Alaric cautioned, helping the battered initiate to his feet. "You still need to recover."

He sat Kra'vyx down on a crate that was lying nearby. Kra'vyx didn't say a word. Alaric could see in the initiate's eyes, one of depression and a sense of uselessness. He was the most beat up out of all of them and he had no trophy to show for it.

Alaric took this time to reassure Kra'vyx of their situation

"Kra'vyx, it's okay." Alaric comforted. "If you're worried about claiming a trophy, there is still plenty of time to do so."

Kra'vyx didn't respond. He only looked out into space. Alaric tried some positive reinforcement.

"Kra'vyx, you are tough." Alaric commended. "Seeing that you're standing after all that damage that bastard did to you proves that. Most people that I've seen, even Yautja I've sparred with, wouldn't have weathered something like that."

Kra'vyx still had his head down and Alaric then decided to reveal a secret he had been keeping from him.

"Listen. Before we left Lai'kairis, I made a promise to Ja'anya." Alaric told him.

Kra'vyx looked up to Alaric at the mention of his sister's name with question. Alaric then clarified on how Ja'anya is involved with this.

"If you are wondering if there is a bond between me and Ja'anya, yes there is." Alaric revealed, making Kra'vyx's eyes go wide.

"She told me how she feared for us, like how your father met his end." Alaric explained. "She was afraid that she would lose one or even both of us. I told her, swore to her, that we would all make it back and I don't intend on breaking that promise. But to do so, we need to stay strong and vigilant. You need to be. We all need to be. We came this far, proved what we are capable of and we'll go the rest of the way. I swear it."

Those words reached through to the initiate. What Kra'vyx had grown to suspect was true. Alaric and his sister were in love. The image of them together as a pair filled his mind and a new sense of duty had sprung. He would make sure that Alaric would return to Ja'anya. Kra'vyx nodded and with new determination, and a sense of purpose, he heaved himself up. Alaric praised him for his effort.

And not a moment to soon

Mal'fax, despite being known for his calm, gave a large pile of rubble a kick in a rare fit of frustration and watched as the rocks rolled or bounced off in different directions. However, one lump of rock went rolling into an ice covered corner of the northern and western walls and crashed right through the lower ice stalagmites. A dark hole was revealed, an instant contrast between it and the ice around it.

Mal'fax had found their target.

"Alaric, over there." Mal'fax called out, pointing to the hole.

Alaric jogged over and saw what Mal'fax found as Ly'enta and Fel'tak took notice and joined them. Kra'vyx hobbled over from his crate, slowly regaining his balance and joined them.

"I think I found what we're looking for." Mal'fax concluded.

What Mal'fax was pointing at, after some closer inspection was in fact a large ice passageway, one that looked like it was opened a few weeks ago, the same time from which the Xenomorphs first struck The tunnel was roughly square in shape, four meters in height and width and had a thick covering of long snow covered icicles, possibly growing slowly over when the section was opened, were hanging down the entrance. Alaric walked up to it, gesturing to them to the initiates to stay back and cautiously shone his mask lamps down the passage through gaps in the ice. He could not see any hostiles down the tunnel, which seemed to go deeper into the planet but he did notice something in the snow. Smashing the icicles out of his way, too easily as the ice shattered with little force, he could see some partially buried mining gear. He gestured to the initiates to cover him as he cautiously walked over to the equipment, keeping a lookout for any Xenomorphs in hiding and did a quick search. His suspicions were confirmed when he pulled out a stack of mining charges, a flashlight and a map with an area outside from the mines highlighted.

'_Yep.'_He thought as he placed the charges back in their case and picked them up. _'Definitely the colonists.'_

He walked back outside, grabbed one of the intact icicles, and snapped it off, with an uncharacteristic crack, before examining it. Checking the crystalline structure within, he saw that it wasn't formed naturally. They smashed too easily and were not as smooth. He postulated that the Xenomorphs had secreted their characteristic resin onto the wall and let it drip down as icicles would when forming.

Convincing camouflage to the untrained eye.

Gesturing the others to follow, he walked down the tunnel.

"The Bugs are definitely in this direction." he told them. "They camouflaged the entrance to hide the way."

Fel'tak followed first with his stave out and ready. Kra'vyx hobbled through, using the wall to support himself. Ly'enta followed next while Mal'fax took the rear.

"These prey are much smarter then anyone back on Lai'kairis could ever think." Mal'fax remarked.

"No one even knows that these prey exist, let alone what they think." Ly'enta pointed out.

"Well, let's head down the tunnel and see if their hive is on the other side." Alaric told them, leading the way.

Fel'tak chose this moment to make a statement, otherwise known as complaining.

"We're gonna get lost down here." He warned, pointing down to the darkness.

"Relax, this is a tunnel, not a labyrinth." Alaric assured. "We keep following it till we get to the other end."

* * *

><p>Following was proving to be more easily said then done.<p>

This tunnel was leading them, winding like a river down ever deeper into the planet. The snow on the ground was a thick carpet that had hidden slicks of ice just waiting to get them. And the temperature was plummeting as well, as if they were back on the barren surface. They could see it in the steaming plumes of their breath. Their armors' thermal heating was coping with the drop but it was agreed not to stay at these depths for too long. And the deeper they went, the colder it got.

Was the core of this planet a heart of ice?

The first thing that struck them about this tunnel as they reached a sizable depth was the darkness. Not the darkness that came from an ice enclosed tunnel, but from a tunnel from which nothing was reflecting. It was evident when Alaric shone his mask lamps further down the tunnel. Instead of the beams reflecting off the ice and illuminating a great distance, it only covered the range that it was designed for.

"Is it me or is the ice not reflecting anymore." Ly'enta asked, stopping to look at a section of the ice wall.

She was right. While all of the ice they had seen previous had a crystal-like quality, this particular ice did not. It was dull and dark. Alaric stopped the walk to inspect the ice and saw that instead of the dark reflecting blue he saw earthy black within the ice. He assumed that it was the natural rock showing under the ice. But upon closer examination, he saw that the rock behind wasn't in a natural state. It looked more geometrical then organic.

And it wasn't that far under the ice.

"Wait a minute." Alaric said, tapping on the ice.

He struck the ice with the butt of his pulse rifle several times until the ice gave way and shattered like crystal glass. What Alaric saw underneath the thick ice shell was a positive sign that they were heading in the right direction.

He was looking at a wall of solid stone.

Stone blocks.

"Good eyes, Ly'enta." Alaric praised, running a finger on the stone.

Ly'enta was pleased with herself at getting Alaric's praise.

"This is definitely of Yautja crafting." Mal'fax confirmed as Alaric moved out of the way. "But how old, is the question."

The large initiate looked at the stone wall and examined it, trying to get a date on it from his teachings of history. Mal'fax, despite his large size suggesting differently, was something of a history buff, able to remember meticulous details about any time period. It was suggested that he would become a scholar later in life but Mal'fax thought the lifestyle was too dull, being the more 'hands on' type.

However, this particular find was proving to be troublesome. While he was able to get a rough time from which the stone was carved, he couldn't work out what clan these were carved by as there were no identifying marks regarding clan allegiance or tools.

And the date from which these stones were carved sent a chill down his spine.

"This stone is dating from the end of the Dark Times." he concluded softly.

His fellow initiates murmured at the mention of that time.

"Dark Times?" Alaric asked, questioning the Yautja

"The dark ages from which our race lost so much." Mal'kah explained

"Lost so much?" Alaric questioned with a hint of puzzlement. "I fought Yautja many times and your tech is far superior to any humans."

"That's now." Mal'fax corrected. "Back then, when your race was still fighting with crude bronze weapons, we had far more powerful technology, more powerful then what we have now. Our understanding of our ancient past is only handed down by word of mouth from the ancients or from ancient tomes. And even those are sketchy at best, and subject to opinion."

Fel'tak, at this point, barged forward.

"As much as we enjoy listening to you being the teacher, can we please move on?" he asked, with a hint of urging. "This tunnel is freezing enough without you blathering too."

Kra'vyx stumbled and hit the ground. He struggled to regain his footing and Mal'fax rushed over to help him up.

"Just keep talking. Your breath will even the temperature out." Alaric joked.

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. Very clever." Fel'tak praised mockingly.

Kra'vyx got to his feet and regained his balance, using the tunnel wall as support. Alaric led them further down the tunnel, assuring them that the tunnel should be ending soon. And they didn't have much farther to go. In the distance was a long stretch of tunnel and, when zoomed in with their masks, they could see that the tunnel was becoming brighter and there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"We're getting near the end of the tunnel." Alaric said.

"About time." Fel'tak said, barging his way forward.

He was answered for his rudeness by slipping on a hidden slick of ice, landing on his butt and skidding down the tunnel for a few feet. His friends chuckled at his displeasure as he picked himself up and rubbed his cold bruised rear. Alaric carefully stepped over the slick and led them down the tunnel's exit.

The temperature was getting even colder then before and now they could feel a strong breeze coming in from the tunnel's exit. Snow was billowing inside in clouds, causing snow banks to grow steadily, even when they trudged through them.

They wished that they had kept their makeshift cloaks after all.

Mal'fax, due to his larger build, was unfortunately used as a living windscreen by his friends as they huddled behind him. Alaric however trudged forward unhindered, his hair bands jingling in the wind. A scene reminiscent of when they first crash landed here.

Nearing the end of the tunnel, they saw that a thick mist was creeping in like a malevolent plasmid creature. They all stopped as the result of this unexpected, possibly unnatural phenomenon. The tunnels end was obscured in this mist, adding an ominous sense of dread as to what resided beyond. Alaric cautiously stepped through, keeping his pulse rifle raised and his finger on the trigger. He vanished from sight for a few moments, the initiates waiting behind for him before he stuck a hand out and gestured them to follow.

They eventually stepped out into the light, arriving on a large carved stone platform protruding from the rock wall of a vast, miles wide cavern and saw something that caught their attention, and their breaths, in an instant, making them remove their masks to see if it was a trick of their sight.

What they saw in the center of this mist filled cavern, resting on an ice encrusted spire of rock, was a monolithic Yautja temple, the one that fitted the rough thermal scan perfectly. And the sheer size of it was enough to make even Alaric's jaw drop. Beams of light and the faint trickle of falling snow could be seen shining down upon it from fissures high up in the cavern's ceiling and the parts of the temple that was being illuminated confirmed what they had suspected.

The temple was indeed the hive as there was hive webbing covering all over it and stretching from the surroundings to it like a spider's web. This, combined with the many millennia of ice and snow accumulation, obscured many of the temple's cosmetic features. The intricate glyphs and statues that would be leading up to and decorating the temple were now nothing more then misshapen lumps of webbed and iced stone.

Directly in front of them, leading up to the temple was a massive and equally monolithic stone bridge that stretched across a dark subterranean sea that was surrounding the temple, it's supporting pillars sunk deep into the sea. This bridge too had been assimilated by the hive but in a lesser degree the more it stretched from the temple and it was more consumed by the snow and ice at their end with only the occasional arterial tendril leeching on the stone.

"Well, we now know where they are." Alaric said, slipping his mask back on and zooming in to examine the temple more closely. "And, Ancestors, they've been busy."

Alaric carefully scanned the whole area with his mask, zooming as far as he could into every possible hiding place, keeping a watch for any Xenomorphs patrolling the temple and if there were any other tunnels from which they could escape. So far he wasn't seeing any patrols or any other tunnel leading away from the temple. If there were any Xenomorphs here, they were either off on a raid or lurking inside their hive. If they were not in this area, at least they would be cut off from reinforcements when the tunnel goes up.

Then he, the initiates, and the Archangels could hunt those stragglers down.

Alaric also saw that in the walls of the cavern, even under the platform that they were standing on that there were frozen glaciers seeping through the rock faces. The glaciers were all located at eight different directional points in perfect alignment like an eight pointed star. And they all flowed down to the sea below. He came to the assumption that in the ancient past, water flowed into this cavern that formed the sea below them but it has since frozen solid.

However, why didn't the sea freeze too?

"I don't see any mutated bugs patrolling." Alaric pointed out. "They must be inside napping or out hunting."

He couldn't be sure as there way no way that he could hail Andrezj from this position for any information. Alaric wasted no time, reaching for his pack of charges while the initiates were still gaping in awe at the sight. He sat down on the ground and got to work, looking out over the temple every now and then as he carefully took out all the charges.

The initiates were busy gazing on the temple turned hive.

"By the gods." Ly'enta murmured in wonder. "I've never seen a temple of this size. You could fit nine or even ten initiation temples inside this one.

"No clan today could've built a temple like that." Mal'fax said. "No knowledge on how to even build one like this survives to this day."

He walked closer to the bridge as Kra'vyx let go of his shoulder and slumped against the tunnel wall. Mal'fax knelt at one of the bridge's abutments near them. He then started to carefully clean off the ice and strands of hive webbing as best he could so that he could try to find some identifiable marks or maybe even a clan glyph. Unfortunately, as he tore off the webbing, the stone underneath cracked and crumbled, destroying any markings beneath.

Mal'fax gave an annoyed grunt to himself as he let the crumbled masonry drop through his fingers.

Another thing he broke unintentionally.

"The hive has encroached on the stone for too long." he said, walking back. "Impossible to remove without the right gear."

"What clan would build a temple like this, deep in a deathworld?" Fel'tak questioned, looking down at the shear drop under the bridge and platform. "See how deep this water goes? Like Cetanu himself is lurking about down there."

He then knocked a piece of ice off the edge with his foot and watched as it went plummeting down through the mist, plopping into the water with an echoing splash and disappeared into the dark void.

"Just like that ice cavern from before." he compared. "It just keeps going."

Kra'vyx was still looking at the temple from where he was leaning on the cavern wall. He had never took his eyes off it. The stories that the oldest Ancients told were once again filling his head. The clan who fought the God-Prey. The prisons constructed to lock away the evil. The clan that vanished from the face of history. In his opiate addled head, the pieces were slowly fitting together.

"It was the unknown clan who imprisoned the God-Prey." Kra'vyx said. "The legends that the Ancients spoke of. They're true after all."

His friends looked back to him when he said that.

"Are you still going on about the stories?" Fel'tak asked, walking back to them. "This is place is creepy enough without those tales being told."

"Well, what else can it be?" Kra'vyx pointed out.

Alaric looked up from the charge he was working on.

"What stories?" Alaric asked, plugging in it's detonator.

The initiates looked to each other with uncertainty in their eyes. They seemed hesitant to even talk about the subject. Those tales of a horror from an age long past were not something that the clan of Lai'kairis talked about often. It was something that was told once and only once to each generation.

"You lot have gone quiet." Alaric pointed out, setting the charge before working on another. "Is this a taboo subject?"

It was evident that they were reluctant to talk about what they knew and Kra'vyx was the one to explain when it became evident that neither of his friends would talk about it.

"The Ancients once spoke of these Khiande Amedha, Primarchs I think they were called." Kra'vyx told Alaric, trying to remember the stories from so long ago. "Gods among prey, they spread through out the stars, destroying whole worlds and devouring entire races. And one clan of hunters, warriors without equals, sacrificed themselves to destroy and seal away the last of them."

"Sounds like they were quite the warriors." Alaric commended, getting back to the charge he was working on.

"Those stories are only half forgotten legends." Fel'tak pointed out. "There are no records of that time and no one knows what exactly happened. Not even the most ancient of the Ancients."

"But they believe in the stories." Ly'enta stated, turning to Fel'tak. "You could see it in their eyes whenever they talked about it. They were terrified."

"Is there a name for this clan?" Alaric asked, working on the final charge.

"No, nothing about them is known." Mal'fax answered. "Only that they sacrificed themselves to imprison the God-Prey."

Alaric pulled out lengths of wire and started rigging the charges together. He paused for a moment to think about what Mal'fax just said in his head.

Nothing known about a clan who did something as heroic as that? Isn't taking down the greatest prey a hunter could ever dream of something worth recording? And if so, why was this not?

"Don't any of you find that odd?" Alaric asked, resuming his work. "Something as important as that happened, yet there are no records of who was involved?"

Speaking of records, Mal'fax had been thinking of logging what had happened since they had crashed and, despite taking a few still images of the Xenomorphs from the colony, he had yet to record anything of great significance.

Mal'fax nodded to himself.

"We should record this and get it to Kal'deris and the Elders." Mal'fax said, slipping on his mask reaching for his wrist-comp. "Shed some light as to what's been going on."

"Do that and then let's get out of here before we're seen." Fel'tak added, reaching for his. "That hive is freaking me out."

Mal'fax went about taking images of the temple, the bridge, and the tunnel. Ly'enta and Fel'tak were doing the same as well. Kra'vyx Alaric in the meantime had finished preparing all the charges.

"I'm placing the charges." He told them. "Get ready to move."

Alaric moved to the entrance of the tunnel, crouched to the base of the wall, and started to hack at the ice covering the stone tunnel with his axe as discreetly as he could. When he had cleared a sizable space, he attached the demo charge to the stone wall. He then wired up the mining charges in the same manner around the tunnel, placing them where stone blocks met for maximum effect.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak kept a sharp lookout as Alaric worked on the charges. Kra'vyx was readjusting his armor and was slowly regaining his balance as he took a few steps away from the wall unaided.

"I'm setting the timer for sixty minutes." Alaric said, punching in the keys. "Should give us enough time to clear the mines and refinery before they detonate."

He then hit the arming switch and the charges all gave a beep and a red light shone on each one. The timer on the demo charge started counting down.

"Let's go." Alaric said, switching his cloak field on. "We don't want to be here when these bugs find out they've been locked up."

The initiates didn't need telling twice and they all began running as fast as they could back up the tunnel. The charges gave of a steady series of beeps as the timer counted down to detonation. Their footsteps crunching through the snow and pounded on the stone floor gave the false impression of a stampede of beasts roaring down the tunnel. Alaric took this time to place one of those plasma barriers not far from the charges as a further deterrent from escaping, setting it to active via motion tracking. He then deftly chucked it on the ceiling where it latched with a click and then the circuitry started to glimmer as it went about it's detection cycles.

A thought crept into Ly'enta's mind at that point making her stop in her tracks.

"I just remembered something." Ly'enta said, raising a finger.

Everyone skidded to a stop, almost slipping over each other in the confines of the tunnel.

"Don't tell me you dropped something back there?" Fel'tak barked at her.

He was silenced by a smack over the head by Mal'fax.

"Shut up!" he whispered. "Don't give away our position!"

He turned his head to Ly'enta as Fel'tak readjusted his mask and muttered to himself.

"What is it?" Mal'fax asked her.

"Its something that occurred the same time as those stories." Ly'enta explained. "It was one of those mass extinctions that took place."

Alaric caught Kra'vyx who stumbled over into the tunnel wall and overheard what she said.

"Mass extinctions?" Alaric questioned. "Did you Yautja over hunt a previous species or was it from those bugs?"

"Neither. Many animal species simply disappeared around the same time." Ly'enta answered. "Nothing much is known about those either, despite investigation."

Alaric pushed Kra'vyx on and followed as he took that information in.

"Disappearing animals and a clan, a clan of great warriors, that vanished from history without a trace." Alaric composed, putting the two facts together. "Is this getting difficult to follow or is there some pattern to it?"

"As I said, nothing is known. One day they were there and the next, they vanished." Ly'enta stated. "And the god-prey had nothing to do with it as far as could be searched, being on worlds far from their reach."

"And again, there's no explanation on how? I'm starting to think there's something else going on."

The initiates looked to each other.

"Either records were lost by accident or they were wiped by some hidden party." Alaric clarified.

"What? Are you insinuating that records had been deleted?" Mal'kah questioned. "That is against ancient law to delete vital historical records."

"That or maybe someone didn't want anyone to learn about it at the time it happened." Fel'tak proposed.

They all looked at Fel'tak in disbelief at what Fel'tak said. He had actually said something constructive for a change, other than griping about the misery of their time on the planet.

"Congratulations. That is the first helpful thing you said since we crashed here." Mal'fax praised.

"I try." Fel'tak said.

Alaric then hushed them.

"We can bicker about natural or unnatural extinctions back at the colony. Let's just get a move on." Alaric said, putting more speed into his legs.

The initiates followed suit in quick succession.

* * *

><p>They exited the tunnel within minutes, evading nearly all the hidden ice slicks within and Alaric immediately dashed for the mining drill rig that Kra'vyx was leaning on previously. It was in perfect position to be pushed into the tunnel. He walked past the massive boring drill head, hopped into the cabin, and, with great effort, released all the frozen brakes. He then tried to start the engine, the engine failed to even make a sound. He hopped out, lifted the maintenance hatch, and checked the engine. He cursed loudly when he saw that the Xenomorphs had done a fine job of shredding the engine to ribbons.<p>

Another bit of too-intelligent thinking.

Right, he thought. Plan B.

He moved to the back of the rig, preparing to push it.

"Come give me a hand." he said to the initiates before giving the rig a shove with his shoulder.

His shoulder connected with the metal plating with a metallic thud and the rig shuddered, shaking off some of the snow and ice that was accumulating on it. He rubbed his shoulder before he tried again.

"What are you doing?" Fel'tak asked, watching as Alaric tried again, but this time the rig inched forward.

"Plugging the hole. What does it look like?" Alaric told him, muscles bulging as he strained to move the rig. "I want to keep the bastards in there for the bang!"

Mal'fax understood what Alaric was doing and he rushed over to help, followed by Ly'enta and then Kra'vyx. Fel'tak looked back at the tunnel, thought hesitantly for a second about delaying their escape and then rushed to help. After a moment of near bursting muscles from all of them, with Mal'fax using his bulk as a battering ram, the ice encrusting the rig's tracks started to crack and then shattered, giving the tracks freedom to move. The rig's internal workings protested loudly to this rough treatment to its frozen gears as it clattered along to the tunnel entry. After much exhausting, muscle rupturing pushing, and shoving, the rig plugged the hole with a nice solid thud accompanied by snow falling from the wall.

Alaric climbed to the cabin again while everyone gained their breaths and applied the brakes, even slicing the handle off with his axe for good measure before jumping out. He tossed the handle over his back and dusted his hands.

'_Just in case.'_ He thought.

"Right, let's get back to the refinery and the Archangels." Alaric told the initiates. "And let's hope none of those bugs are lurking about on the way."

Alaric led the way with the initiates following behind. Kra'vyx had now recovered enough of his strength to run unaided. Ly'enta followed close to him in case he needed support. Alaric, to save them time from getting lost on the way back had left identifiable marks, arrows to be exact, to mark the way they came.

Their biggest intention at the moment was to get back to safer territory before the charges detonate, as things were guaranteed to get frantic when the Xenomorphs learned that they had been locked up again. They would likely try to dig their way back out or, if there was a sizable force of them already away from the hive, launch a full scale attack on the colony.

And in it's pitiful state, the colony couldn't withstand another attack on that scale.

That didn't really matter to the initiates as it meant more prey for which to prove themselves.

"What do we do when we get back to the colony?" Mal'fax asked.

"Bunker down and rest." Alaric said.

"Me and Kra'vyx still need to bring home a trophy." Ly'enta pointed out. "It would be an insult to the clan if with we came back empty handed."

"Well, I'm not in much shape to fight at the moment." Kra'vyx pointed out. "Head's still throbbing like hell and..." He fell over but quickly regained his footing. "Still wobbly."

"When the hive is blocked off, we can hunt down every single one of those bugs not imprisoned. You'll get your trophy before we leave this ice ball." Alaric assured before looking at the timer on his wrist. "Forty minutes to go. We gotta pick up the pace!"

He then started running faster, putting more power into his legs and the initiates followed suit. They zipped down the winding tunnels, nimbly moving past wrecked mining rigs and scattered equipment. Alaric's parkour skills came into effect as he effortlessly maneuvered around and rolled or flipped over obstacles. Kra'vyx wasn't doing too bad himself, though his landings were mistimed a few times and he got a face full of snow for his failure. But he was doing great considering his current state. Mal'fax, Ly'enta, and Fel'tak were also covering ground well but were not as fluid in their movements as Alaric.

* * *

><p>They eventually emerged from the mines, breathing hard, exhausted, and limbs burning with exertion from their long, hard sprint. Alaric and the initiates stopped to catch their breaths next to a wrecked truck. Fel'tak out of all them fell to the ground, panting hard. Seemed he had boasted much about his speed in the past. Alaric who was only lightly panting looked down to the timer, having lost track of time in the long run.<p>

_Thirty minutes_, he thought. _We made it. Faster then I thought, too._

Now all they had to do was navigate through the refinery, link up with the Archangels at the main entrance, and head back to the colony. After that, some serious hunting could begin.

Gesturing the initiates to follow, somewhat begrudgingly from their body language, Alaric led them into the courtyard. They followed behind with Fel'tak mumbling for them to stop for one moment. Alaric in turn stated to him that the Archangels are not too far ahead. They moved around the courtyard's raised platform, the refinery coming into view and they saw something that threw the timing of the whole operation into disarray.

Something that Alaric had not expected after all the butchering he had done beforehand.

"You have... gotta be... shitting me." Alaric panted, cocking his pulse rifle.


	18. Chapter 18

Hey all!

i apologise about the wait, this chapter is running longer then i first anticipated as more and more ideas float in my head. and also the release of Mass Effect 3. i'm only playing multiplayer until i play through the series in order for an up to date understanding of the universe.

but enough of that, this is the first half of the chapter, the second half will be posted as soon as it's complete.

so without further a due, read away!

Update 6/5/2012 :uploaded second part.

* * *

><p>Chapter 18- Sacrifice<p>

Mal'kah and Qul'dan were waiting for them. They had been waiting ever since Alaric and the initiates ventured into the mines. And they had kept themselves busy by examining the abattoir that was the courtyard.

Qul'dan was following the trail of destruction that Alaric had caused with the APC, even going up and examining the three crushed hunters between it and the cavern wall. Mal'kah was casually looking down the ice tunnel, wiping a finger on the bloodstained ice. He then picked something from the ice. A gold piercing. He grunted in disappointment and flicked it down the tunnel. The piercing jingled down the crystalline tunnel, echoing as it made it's bumpy descent.

"Seems I missed a few" Alaric said, turning his head to the initates. "Stay close."

The veteran then turned his head towards Alaric and the initiates, having heard their arrival with his mask's audio enhancers.

Mal'kah sighed in mock exasperation towards Tan'kor's demise as he fully turned to them. Not that he thought Tan'kor didn't deserve it, but rather he was relieved not to have that pompous noble rubbing his "superior" heritage in his face.

"I told him not to underestimate you but his arrogance got the better of him." Mal'kah said in fluent english. "But I suppose arrogance is a prerequisite to be a noble. I admire your...out of the box thinking, crashing one of your machines right through your structure and the wall."

He then walked closer to Alaric, gesturing at all the yautja bodies. He was amazed at the level of carnage that this human could create, taking down a whole hunting party by himself. Then again, he expected nothing less from Alaric.

"And you have become stronger. I had a thought that they would be no match for you and I have been proven right."

Alaric aimed his pulse rifle in front of him defensively. He then gestured to the initiates to get behind him. Mal'kah stopped walking towards him, offended by Alaric's hostility.

"Oh, come now." Mal'kah scolded. "Do you always aim a weapon at those who want to talk."

"Sorry, but your goons cast a bad first impression." Alaric said, keeping his rifle up and aimed for Mal'kah's head. "Especially that pinhead I sent down that chute."

Mal'kah looked back to the chute and then chuckled.

"Well, he had it coming to him." Mal'kah admitted before turning back.

Qul'dan looked away from the APC at this point. He noticed Alaric and the initiates all bunched up and began half walking, half stomping up to them, cracking his knuckles and grunting with overdue satisfaction. Mal'kah walked over to the brawler, heading him off and held out an arm, keeping the large hunter in check behind him. Qul'dan growled at the veteran's insistance.

"Not yet." Mal'kah ordered.

He turned back to Alaric.

"It never surprises me how naive and inquisitive your race can be." He said. "Receive information from an unknown source, especially ones about riches, and you dive headfirst into it. And even my race can be fooled, but not easily."

Alaric processed in his mind what Mal'kah said. He remembered how foreman Hernandez mentioned an anonymous tip off about resources to this planet. However, after thinking about, this world was so remote that it seemed unlikely that prospectors would have stumbled upon. And with the blizzards that raged above, it was unlikely that anyone could even land a small ship.

Their shuttle, more advanced then any human make, crashed landed as a result of trying to land.

"You're the ones who lured us here." Alaric concluded. "And you released those stone age bugs from that temple, didn't you?"

Mal'kah resumed his attention on Alaric. He was mildly surprised that Alaric learned so quickly.

"Yes and no." Mal'kah said. "While I did open it, only the blood of those who had lock them away could release them.

"The unknown clan, who had been so conveniently forgotten?" Alaric guessed.

Mal'kah was surprised when Alaric mentioned that subject.

"Ah, so you heard the legend, too." Mal'kah said, looking over to the initiates behind him. "Seems something about them could never be extinguished."

Qul'dan grunted, his eagerness for battle was slowly eroding his control.

"Why are we talking? Lets just kill them now!" Qul'dan growled.

Mal'kah looked up at Qul'dan.

"Not yet." Mal'kah ordered.

Qul'dan growled louder in annoyance.

Mal'kah returned his sight back to Alaric.

"I feel that an introduction is needed. I am Mal'kah, honoured hunter veteran of the yautja race." Mal'kah introduced before gesturing to Qul'dan who was now cracking his neck. "My over eager companion here is Qul'dan."

Mal'kah then did a bow towards Alaric, formal and honourable, unlike Qul'dan who grunted in greeting and thumped his fists.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again... Alaric."

Alaric was somewhat taken back that this yautja knew his name.

"How do you my name?" Alaric said, cocking his rifle at Mal'kah. "Through stalking us on this planet, watching us fight for our lives against those freaks of nature?"

"In truth, we have faced each other before." Mal'kah said as he pulled the tubes connecting his mask, the air spewing from them in cloud jets. "You have your scars. And I have mine."

Mal'kah removed his mask, slowly for dramatic effect and Alaric's eyes went wide. This Mal'kah was the leader of the Marked who took everything from him that tragic day. And his left eye was nothing more then a patch of metal, after Alaric tore it out of his socket. Alaric's trigger finger started to twitch.

"You..." Alaric started before he noticed another.

Qul'dan reached to his mask, getting Alaric's attention as he removed it. And Alaric was getting more agitated when he recognized his. Qul'dan was that large brute who had sadistically tortured his son with another hunter.

"Hello there, Alaric." Qul'dan greeted tauntingly, holstering his mask and cracking his knuckles. "How's mate and pup?"

Alaric could already feel the fire in blood boil. The urge to draw his axes and kill them was filling his head and he was forcing it back down. He couldn't afford to go into The Rage while Kra'vyx and his friend were in the way.

He had to get them clear before hand.

"Guys, get of here." Alaric ordered, his voice trying to maintain calm. "You don't have much time."

"Alaric?" Kra'vyx asked.

"Just go." Alaric ordered, more loudly this time. "This is between me and them. No one else."

Kra'vyx looked at the two hunters, how Alaric was reacting to them and realised what Alaric intended to do. He nodded to Alaric and gestured to the others. The initiates then reluctantly tried to leave the area, keeping a clear rein of the two yautja but they were immediately headed off by Qul'dan who leaped right to their position with surprising strength and speed and was enthusiastically smacking his fists together.

"Sorry." he said, grinning. "Orders are orders. No one leaves here alive."

"Qul'dan, leave them." Mal'kah ordered.

Qul'dan looked crushed. He had been waiting patiently, as patient as a violence addicted warrior could even be, and now Mal'kah wasn't letting him get to do any fighting, despite assuring that he would.

He looked back at the veteran with annoyance in his eyes.

"What?" he spat in anger.

"They fulfilled their purpose. Our target is right here, not quite as planned, but here regardless." Mal'kah stated. "Let the Primarch deal with those initiates and that ooman colony."

"Oh, no!"Qul'dan said, rearing up to the veteran with barely restrained anger. "I have been waiting weeks for this moment. I am not leaving any of them walking on two feet. Especially since they are now blooded hunters, not puny initiates anymore."

Mal'kah sighed. And the initiates had already drawn their melee weapons and ditching their human ranged weaponry, sensing that they were going to have to fight their way out. And also, as the hunter code demanded, on fair terms. Kra'vyx shook his head, shrugging of some of the pain meds' inebriation for the fight that was to start and raised his kataras. Mal'fax hefted his hammer and Fel'tak held his stave high. Ly'enta swung her whips into circles in counterclockwise cycles.

"Fine." Mal'kah said exasperatingly, before pointing a finger authoritatively. "Just wound them. Leave something for the Primarch."

Qul'dan grunted but then nodded. Evidently, wounding the initiates will be the best thing he can do at this time. But a fight is a fight no matter the outcome.

Alaric was incensed by the order.

"You lay a fucking finger on them and I will tear your fucking heart out!" Alaric shouted at Qul'dan.

"Ha! I like to see you try!" Qul'dan shouted back, charging at the initiates. "You couldn't even fight me before!"

Qul'dan engaged the initiates and the young hunters evaded his charge before counter charging.

"By all means do that." Mal'kah said, drawing his sickles. "But first, as the saying goes, you gotta get past me.

Alaric dumped his pulse rifle, drew both his hand axes and gave both a small flourish. Mal'kah then readied himself into a fighting stance with both sickles out to his sides and gestured Alaric to attack.

"Shouldn't be too hard." Alaric said, before charging at Mal'kah.

Mal'kah brought his sickles into a defensive stance as Alaric came charging towards him.

Alaric brought his axes down hard with a yell and a loud clang of impacting metal was heard. And the result was something that surprised Alaric. Mal'kah had blocked Alaric's attack and his sickles had stopped his axes in their tracks.

There wasn't even a scratch on them.

"What the?" Alaric said in surprise.

Mal'kah grinned.

"You're not the only one with God-Forged blades." Mal'kah stated.

Mal'kah then gave a sharp kick into Alaric's gut, pushing the slayer back and counterattacking with a dual slash. Alaric barely managed to dodge the attack, only just as the erupting sparks indicated. There were now two deep cuts in his chest plates, two diagonal gouges marking where his heart was. Blood started to seep out of his armour, indicating that the damage was closer then he thought and Alaric saw that he was in deep trouble.

"How does it feel not having the advantage of weaponry?" Mal'kah questioned.

Alaric wasn't going to let this faze him as he readied himself.

"Then I'll just have to adapt." Alaric answered.

He charged back into the fight, swinging his axes. Mal'kah parried with his scythes before countering with another kick. Alaric blocked before delivering one of his roundhouse kicks but Mal'kah saw this coming and grabbed Alaric's leg by the ankle as it reached his head. He wrenched Alaric's leg down forcefully but Alaric responded by jumping and using his other leg. His armoured foot connected to Mal'kah's head with a loud crack right where the plate was. Mal'kah recoiled from the blow as Alaric hit the ground, staggering back a few paces with a hand in his eye as Alaric hit the ground on his back.

"Well said." Mal'kah strained against the pain in his eye socket.

Mal'kah regained his composure and charged at the recovering Alaric.

The initiates in the mean time were holding their ground with Qul'dan, much to the hulking yautja's amusement. Kra'vyx, for one, was fighting in near perfect condition despite his current state and, under the pain-meds inhabiting his body, was able to weather most blows that landed on him. Mal'fax and Fel'tak were striking at precise moments, trying to exploit any weakness to Qul'dan's fighting style.

Whenever any blows did land on Qul'dan, he just didn't notice them or the initiates weren't striking him hard enough to warrant his attention.

Ly'enta was nimbly flailing her whips from behind, trying to immobilise Qul'dan so that Mal'fax and Fel'tak could counterattack. Her chance came and her whips managed to lash around Qul'dan's wrists as he reared back to punch Kra'vyx and she pulled hard as she could, bringing the brawler's hands behind him.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak nodded to each other, their opening finally here and they charged at Qul'dan from the front, hoping to spear or smash him whichever came first. Qul'dan saw them coming and he smirked. With a pull of ungodly strength, he tore Ly'enta's whips from her grip, provoking a gasp from the initiate and held his hands in front of him, reaching out for Mal'fax and Fel'tak.

"Oh shit!" Fel'tak cursed when he saw Qul'dan's claws reaching towards them.

Qul'dan had allowed himself to get caught so as to let them get near for some real pain.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak were both grabbed by the neck, lifted off their feet and then had their heads smacked together with a sickening thud, face to face. Both dazed, their masks fractured and sparking and their weapons limp in their hands, they were then tossed over Qul'dan's shoulder like trash, landing in heaps by Ly'enta who reached for her ceremonial knife and her ice pick. This was something that Kra'vyx and Ly'enta could only stare at with dropped jaws.

"Hold on, kids. You can't all play at once!" Qul'dan cackled with glee as his wristblades extended even further.

With only two targets to concentrate on, Qul'dan was now getting more excited, or more bloodthirsty whichever was more relevant, and dangerous.

It was evident that whoever was unlucky enough to be left standing would suffer Qul'dan's full wrath. They had to keep him surrounded so he couldn't focus on one.

Qul'dan charged at them, cackling sadistically.

"He's too strong!" Ly'enta cried out, narrowly dodging a ferocious swipe from Qul'dan.

"Keep moving!" Kra'vyx shouted, rolling under Qul'dan's blades.

While the initiates were being whittled down, Alaric wasn't doing good himself.

Alaric was getting more and more on the defensive as Mal'kah brought his centuries of experience into play. Alaric was finding himself being outmaneuvered and his attacks blocked with disciplined professionalism. Mal'kah was not an opponent Alaric had ever faced in a fight.

Seeing an opening, Alaric swung his axes with a flourish, followed by a swiping kick with his left leg. Mal'kah parried each strike before slashing Alaric on the leg. Blood sprayed in the air in an arc and Alaric instinctively drew his leg back and saw a clean cut sliced through his tear resistant fatigues and into his leg above the knee. Alaric grunted through the pain and continued blocking Mal'kah's attacks.

Mal'kah tried to stab Alaric through the chest with both sickles. However, Alaric dropped to the ground on his back, the blades missing his face by an inch and he rammed both his feet into Mal'kah's gut. Mal'kah recoiled from the force, slightly gasping for breath but that was all Alaric needed. He rolled backwards, onto his feet and then rammed Mal'kah in the gut again before punching him under the chin. Mal'kah's head went rocking back but he then gave Alaric an elbow to his back and then a hard knee to his head. Alaric went rolling back, fighting back the pain from his skull plate, giving Mal'kah a slash across his shin as a leaving present. The axe sliced through armour and flesh, green blood seeped out the gash in his greave.

Mal'kah grunted as the pain reached his brain but he shrugged it off as Alaric rolled to his feet, shrugging off his migraine.

They fought even harder, Alaric defiantly hanging on against the veteran's superior skills. Mal'kah would be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy this. It was not often that he got to fight a worthy opponent. In fact, had it been different that night and his orders more 'honourable', he would've gladly formally dueled Alaric.

Both had managed to land a number of bruising blows on each other and even a few cuts from lucky strikes but they were skilled enough to dodge most of their attacks.

That, though, couldn't be said for the initates.

Qul'dan lunged at Ly'enta, managing to grab her by the arm before heaving her up and over his head, ready to gut her with his wristblades. Kra'vyx leaped to her rescue, jumping up and driving both kataras in Qul'dan's sides. However, his aim was off by an inch and both blades screeched as they slid off. However, Kra'vyx followed up, after watching Alaric so many times, with a roundhouse kick to the back of Qul'dan's head. This was enough to get Qul'dan's attention as he turned his head towards Kra'vyx who was stepping back.

Qul'dan cackled as he tossed Ly'enta away, her head hitting the platform and stunning her, before focusing on Kra'vyx now. She landed hard onto the ground as he charged at Kra'vyx.

"Time to play!" Qul'dan roared.

Kra'vyx evaded Qul'dan's ferocious attack before counterattacking with a dual slash from his kataras, catching Qul'dan across his arms. Qul'dan laughed at the initiates attempt.

"Pathetic!" he taunted. "You can do better then that!"

Kra'vyx, as the only initiate standing, could only try to outmaneuver Qul'dan as the hulking brawler attacked, secretly toying with the initiate and intending to whittle him down bit by bit. Kra'vyx was taking hits

While Kra'vyx was reaching the high point of his fight, Alaric and Mal'kah were reaching the climax of their duel.

Both their weapons connected and a fierce struggle ensued as both tried to force their weapons into each other. Sparks showered both as axe and sickle screeched against each other. Both battle damaged combatants refused to give way.

"We underestimated your resolve to survive." Mal'kah said, pushing his sickles even harder.

"No shit!" Alaric said, pushing back.

Mal'kah kicked into Alaric's gut, momentarily making Alaric lose his standing. Mal'kah then tried to drive his sickles into Alaric's neck but Alaric managed to fluidly evade and block with his axes. Alaric flourished his axes, gaining an opening and he struck, only to be countered by Mal'kah.

The stalemate resumed again.

"Until recently, even I thought we had disposed of all four of you that night."

Alaric, for the first time, was confused by what Mal'kah said.

Four of us?

Alaric pushed Mal'kah away from him, before delivering a flourish with his axes. Mal'kah parried the attack with skill. Mal'kah lunged back and the struggle began again.

"There was only me, Sam and Ares that night!" Alaric roared. "Did you butcher some bystander for practice before hand!"

His anger filled outburst caught Mal'kah's attention and the veteran in turn was puzzled by Alaric's reaction to what he said. The confusion was evident in his face as his brows relaxed.

"What? You mean you didn't know?"Mal'kah asked in surprise. "By the gods, I'm glad I'm not the ones who tortured your mate."

"Shut up!" Alaric roared, pushing hard enough for Mal'kah to stagger.

Mal'kah then shoved Alaric hard away from him. Alaric rolled onto his back and back on his feet, his axes ready for Mal'kah's counterattack. Mal'kah casually flourished his blades but didn't attack. Alaric panted as he waited for Mal'kah to make the first move.

To his puzzlement, Mal'kah sheathed his weapons. The veteran then gave Alaric a serious look, like a parent scolding a naughty child.

"Since you're having difficulty understanding with that rage induced head, let me make this clear so your anger clouded brain can understand." Mal'kah explained, taking his time for his answer and enunciating each word. "Your mate... was... with... child."

That last word had hit Alaric right to the core. So much that his axes went limp in his grip.

Sam was pregnant?

No, if she was then he would have already known about it. The anger quickly came back.

"You're lying!" Alaric accused, regaining his grip on his axes and charging.

Mal'kah dodged the attack effortlessly and smacked Alaric hard face first into the ground and he skidded and rolled for a few feet.

"Am I?" Mal'kah asked, reaching for his wrist pad.

Alaric recovered from his miss and turned, axes raised to see a holographic projection. Alaric would've charged and tore Mal'kah a new one were it not for the image of his dear wife Sam that was projected. It was a recording of that night, the moment Mal'kah and his cohorts arrived. Sam and Ares were trapped in a corner of their home and it was there that Mal'kah scanned Sam. Alaric saw bio-scan readout and what he saw had truly got him where it hurts.

Sam was indeed pregnant and there, within her womb, was a developing fetus. No more then eight weeks.

"It... can't be..." Alaric said at a loss for words. "She..."

He fell to his knees as his axes dropped out of his hands. One hand was on his blood stained chest, where his heart is located.

Alaric could feel his heart was in pain. But it wasn't a heart attack in the medical sense. This pain occurs whenever something had hurt anyone on an emotional, personal level. His mind then recalled a memory, a more pleasant memory that preluded that tragic event.

* * *

><p>"<em>Parry right!" Alaric commanded to the new recruits. "Parry left! Thrust!"<em>

_Alaric was in the middle of teaching a hand to hand training session. Despite being technically on extended leave, he was occasionally recalled to for a special mission or other duties. In this case, his hand to hand expertise was required to harden the latest batch of new Spec Ops recruits._

_Alaric watched from the side as each pair followed his command in sequence with their rubber replica combat knives. Alaric noticed that some of the recruits were sloppy or to unwieldy with their movements. Being from regular marine units, they were more about gung ho and going in guns blazing. Opposite to the Special Operations division._

_There were no more then twenty potential candidates out of a pool of over one hundred remaining. The training of Spec Ops was much more physically and psychologically harsh then those of regular units and a great majority of those selected end up resigning, rendered unfit for service or even die._

_Spec Ops were expected to fulfill missions that most units would stand no chance of completing. Be it assassinating Xenomorph queens or taking on Yautja hunting parties._

_Alaric would hammer these remaining raw soldiers into refined troopers._

_He repeated his commands until he deemed the recruits' skills adequate for the next exercise._

"_Commence counterattack maneuvers." he ordered. "Reversal pattern against attacking foes."_

_He watched as each pair assumed stances that would alternate between attacker and defender. The attacker would lunge with his knife and the defender would then try to counter, using gravity to throw the attacker to the ground and then deliver a knife to the throat or other vital body part. There were many variations of the technique as Alaric saw. So far, he was seeing that most of them had been adequately skilled. Others were too slow or misjudged with their timing and would lose the mock fight._

_Then, his experienced eyes immediately saw a fatal error by one trooper. _

"_No, no, no!" he interrupted, walking up the nearest pair and causing everyone else to cease their actions._

_He picked them both off the floor. They were two marines from the United America's section of the marine corps. One was a stopky american and the other was of brazilian heritage._

"_Private Sandro, what are you doing?" He questioned._

_Sandro looked at him confusingly._

"_I was following your instructions." he explained._

_Alaric shook his head negatively._

"_You didn't. And, you know why?" Alaric questioned._

_Sandro took too long thinking for an answer, English not being his strong suit._

"_Oh for the love of..." Alaric sighed before explaining. "You hesitated during mid attack. Why?"_

"_He wasn't ready."_

"_That's his mistake. None of your concern." Alaric said._

_He looked to the recruit._

"_Corporal O'Neil, did you fumble with the knife?" he asked._

"_Lost my grip on it, sir."_

_Alaric looked at both of them before making up his mind to use them as an example._

"_Marines, listen up!" he called out._

_The recruits ceased their training and paid attention to him as he walked back to his podium. He made sure they were all paying attention._

"_In a battle: there is a very important lesson: Don't hesitate." Alaric told the recruits, emphising the last two words. "Don't use 'training session' as an excuse. This training is designed to keep you alive in the harshest of war zones." He then indicated to O'neil and Sandro. "If you hesitate in battle, like how these two did just now, you will be cut down within seconds."_

_He paused for a moment to ensure that his words got through._

"_You think the enemy, especially bugs or hunters, would let you get ready?" He questioned the recruits. "They see a weakness and they will exploit it with horrific efficiency, be it punching holes in your skulls or tearing your heads off, whichever comes first."_

_Alric drew from his shoulder holster his own archangel's variant knife for everyone to see. This was a more elegant and sleek model compared to the ka-bar style knives of the marines. It's elegent leaf shaped blade, modeled after the ancient greek kopis, designed with swift, efficient killing in mind._

"_When you lose your firearms, this knife will be your lifeline." Alaric told them, showing them his knife. "This knife can very well be the most useful and deadly implement in your arsenal. Provided you know how to use it."_

_He then threw his knife into a target mock up of a xenomorph on the other side of the sparring ring. The recruits instinctively ducked as the knife went whistling above them. They turned their heads around when they heard the knife hit it's mark and they saw that Alaric had scored a bullseye right in the target's head._

"_Remember, Don't hesitate and if you see the foe's weakness, exploit it."_

_Alaric's headset then beeped. He had an incoming transmission._

"_Continue." Alaric ordered to the recruits as he hopped off the podium._

_He walked out of the sparring area as the recruits resumed their training and went to retrieve his knife. He held a hand to his coms, establishing a link._

"_Lt Ce'tarn here." he responded. "What is it?"_

"_Lieutenant, I have a personal call on hold for you." the operator said._

_Alaric's brows raised._

"_Hang on a sec." Alaric asked, signaling to the recruits to continue without him._

_Alaric left the training center, notifying his observing supervisor about his absence and headed to the recreational park, far from prying ears, at a jogging pace. He arrived within a few minutes and he sat down on a bench under a large oak tree._

"_Okay, patch it through." Alric told the operator_

_The frequency then changed with a bunch of static and a much loved voice was heard on the other end._

"_Hey, Alaric." Sam, Alaric's wife, chimed._

_Alaric smiled as he heard his wife's voice._

"_Hey, Dear." Alaric greeted back. "How's things."_

"_Things are going well. I managed to tidy up finally after Are's little escapades with your paint."_

"_Even the ceiling?"_

"_Yes, even the ceiling. He takes after you in the 'moving absolutely anywhere' department."_

_Alaric chuckled._

"_Well, all kids are like that at his age. Being little monsters. Where is he?_

"_He's fast asleep. Like you, he sleeps like a rock."_

_They both shared a chuckle._

"_When are you coming home?" Sam asked._

"_Not too long." Alaric assured her. "Shouldn't be here for more then a few days. Newest recruits are fumbling like a bunch of monkeys having seizures."_

"_You are supposed to be on extended leave, Alaric." Sam reminded._

"_I know. But Command insisted that my assistance for training recruits was needed." Alaric explained before having an idea. " Tell you what. When I come home, we can all go on a trip to Eden IV. Lovely pristine forests, clear blue lakes and snow capped mountains. How does that sound?"_

_There was silence on the line as Sam processed the proposal._

"_Will we stop off to see my parents beforehand?"_

"_Why not?"_

"_Okay, you got a deal."_

_Alaric was going to end the conversation, to his reluctance but then duty called, but Sam had one more thing to tell him._

"_Alaric."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_I have a surprise for you when you get home." Sam revealed_

"_A surprise?" Alaric questioned. "What kind of surprise?"_

"_if I told you then it would defeat the purpose of being a surprise."_

"_oh, don't I get a little hint at least?" Alaric pleaded playfully._

"_Well..." Sam said, coyly. "Lets just say it will leave a mark on you."_

_A sharp beep sounded from Alaric's coms. It told him that he was needed back for more tactical instructing. He sighed._

"_Sorry Sam, gotta get back to pounding greenies into shape." Alaric apologised. "Say hello to Ares for me."_

"_I will." Sam assured. "Bye."_

"_Bye."_

_Alaric shut off his coms and reluctantly headed back to the training block. The question as to what Sam had in store for him when he arrived back home filled his head. He kept this contained as he focused on training the recruits._

_Alaric would later return home within a few days. And he would find only pain when he stepped through the door._

* * *

><p><em>Sam<em>, Alaric thought in pained realisation. _Thats why you called me home._

"If it is any consolation." Mal'kah told him, shutting off the projection. "I alone had no part in her... defilement."

Alaric was silent. It wasn't known if he was emotionally shattered after this dramatic revelation but he was most certainly angry. Mal'kah's admittance to not personally harming Sam or Ares did little to calm Alaric.

"I'm gonna kill you." Alaric whispered as he lifted his head, anger filling his mind. "I'm gonna fucking kill all of you!"

Alaric was now getting so enraged that he felt his hair and muscles twitch and his eyes flickered crimson. He fought back against the rage that was even now beckoning him to unleash. Mal'kah was now taking a few steps back, placing himself between Alaric and Qul'dan.

I can't go into Rage, Alaric thought as he picked up his axes and preparing to attack. I can't risk it with Kra'vyx and his friends here.

But Alaric would have to.

Qul'dan had toyed with Kra'vyx long enough and, smashing the kataras out of the exhausted initiate's grip, managed to grab and lift Kra'vyx into a bear hug and was beginning to crush the life out of him. Kra'vyx desperately punched Qul'dan in the face, but they were proving ineffective as Qul'dan broke into a grin. Ly'enta, having regained her strength, jumped onto his back, digging her taloned feet into his back, grabbed one arm and tried to break his grip on Kra'vyx with all her strength.

But Qul'dan had no intention of letting Kra'vyx go.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak, just regaining consciousness, heaved themselves up, nursing bruised limbs, ruined masks slipping off throbbing heads and they saw Kra'vyx about to get crushed like a insect by this abomination of a yautja's grip. They rushed to his aid, jumping onto the arm that Ly'enta was pulling.

"Let him go!" Mal'fax shouted.

Qul'dan wasn't fazed in the slightest by the resistance they were giving him.

"It'll be over in a second." Qul'dan said before giving Kra'vyx a squeeze. "Make that several seconds."

Kra'vyx gave out a loud yelp of pain as bones and armour could be heard cracking.

Alaric heard the cry of pain, his eyes dilating at the sound. Keeping his axes up, he turned his head in the direction of the cry and what he saw made his heart beat faster and the world slow down.

Kra'vyx was getting crushed to death and his friends were struggling to get Qul'dan's arms off of him. Qul'dan was having none of it and he swatted Mal'fax and Fel'tak away with a swing from one arm, keeping Kra'vyx pinned with his other arm before grabbing Ly'enta by her dreadlocks and slamming her to the ground with a shriek before kicking her away like a ball.

Alaric's eye's flickered and he felt his blood turn to fire. His hair twitched and started to form into spikes. Mal'kah saw Alaric getting enraged and he turned his head to see Qul'dan toying with Kra'vyx.

Qul'dan was letting his eagerness for fighting get the better of him, unknowingly goading Alaric to get enraged.

"Qul'dan, put him down!" Mal'kah ordered, as Alaric's biceps twitched.

"Fuck off!" Qul'dan responded before giving Kra'vyx another squeeze. "This is my fight, not yours!"

Kra'vyx cried out again and that set Alaric over the edge. Alaric gave off a loud anger soaked roar, his eyes flashed into glowing crimson and his hair transformed into his mantle of spikes. He then smashed Mal'kah to one side, the veteran landing in a heap and charged at Qul'dan with lightning fast speed, becoming a blur.

Mal'kah on the ground watched as Alaric pounded his way towards Qul'dan.

"Put him down!" Alaric roared, in his flanging voice, as he charged.

Qul'dan turned his head at Alaric's demand, just in time to see Alaric as a blur jump for his head with his boot leading the way. The boot connected to Qul'dan with a loud and, well deserved, crack dead center to his face. Qul'dan lost his iron grip on Kra'vyx from the sheer force of Alaric's battering ram of a kick and the initiate went slumping to the ground in a heap, gasping for breath while the large yautja went skidding back a few paces before falling to the ground. Alaric landed on his feet, panting and straining with crimson blood seeping down his cut chest, trying to keep his Rage in check.

Qul'dan picked himself up, rubbing his face and the large boot print that was now on it. He saw Alaric standing in front of Kra'vyx who, gasping for much denied breath, was being fretted over by Ly'enta and being joined by Fel'tak and Mal'fax.

The grin on his face reappeared.

"Get Kra'vyx away from here." Alaric growled to Mal'fax, who nodded and dragged his friend away. "This bastard is mine!"

"Now this is a fight I will enjoy." Qul'dan said, bringing his wristblades to bear. "Come on ooman! Time to join your whore of a mate!"

"Qul'dan!" Mal'kah shouted, picking himself up. "Don't encourage him!"

It was too late. That one slur against Alaric's deceased wife was all that it took to send him over the edge. Alaric gave out a loud, rage filled roar and charged at Qul'dan who was bracing himself with glee.

Alaric reached within striking distance of Qul'dan's blades and Qul'dan struck. He thrusted with his blades but somehow Alaric slipped right between them and Qul'dan received an elbow right between the eyes. Qul'dan was knocked back by that, clutching his face. Alaric then gave a volley of punishing kicks, landing with violent thumps onto Qul'dan's armour. He then finished up with a backwards flip, connecting a boot to Qul'dan's chin and staggering the brawler.

Mal'fax gestured to Fel'tak and Ly'enta to help him and they all carried Kra'vyx to the shelter of a stack of crates. They saw that Mal'kah was getting to his feet and was backing off to a safe distance. Not that anyone would blame him.

Qul'dan was weathering the punishment, despite his armour starting to get buckled and the number of blows to the face. He only laughed at Alaric's attempts to kill him. Alaric brought his axes towards Qul'dan's head, intending to decapitate the yautja. Qul'dan effortlessly blocked them with his wristblades, sparks erupting as they struck.

"Surprise!" Qul'dan shouted, before head butting Alaric in the face.

Both of them reeled back from that, Qul'dan from unknowingly smashing his head against the hardened metal plate and Alaric from the migraine that followed. Alaric wasted no time, forcing the pain back before resuming his attack with a roar. He delivered slash to Qul'dan's chest, slicing through armour and into flesh. Qul'dan replied by kicking at Alaric in the chest with his leg with enough force to send Alaric several feet from him and onto his back before quickly rolling back to his feet.

Alaric charged back into the fight.

However, he was about to learn something the hard way.

Qul'dan, as it turned out, had already planned for his encounter with Alaric. Unknown to Alaric, Qul'dan had been issued a special, if somewhat dangerous, cocktail of stimulants and biological enhancers made especially for fighting Alaric.

When he questioned his lord about what it was made from, he was simply told that it is like 'using Alaric's own blood against himself'.

Rage Serum, as it was aptly dubbed.

And Qul'dan, hungry for the power within it, wasted no time in using them.

Hitting a button on his wristpad, the cocktail was injected directly into his bloodstream via injector implants. Instantly, from the stimulants that leeched into his body and amplified all of his biological functions, his muscles bulged, his senses were heightened and the world slowed down. Alaric even in his Rage mode now looked like he was moving at normal speed.

And Qul'dan, who's eyes flashed into a fierce venomous green, was the one who was blurring as he counterattacked.

Alaric was smacked across the face and then punched in the gut before he knew what hit him, sending him through the air and crashing into the snow. He wasted no time picking himself up and charging back, Qul'dan intentionally letting him get close. Alaric gave out a series of fierce slashes with his axes and Qul'dan in his heightened state was dodging and parrying everything that Alaric was doing.

The initiates watched as Qul'dan was evading everything that Alric was unleashing with complete surprise and confusion. That hulking monster of a yautja was nasty enough but now he was like a demon from the depths of hell.

Mal'kah watched on from the side with aanticipation.

Qul'dan, he thought. Don't toy with him!

Qul'dan smashed the axes out of Alaric's grip, the two ornate implements skidding over the snow, and proceeded to pummel the life out of him. Qul'dan landed a few jarring blows to Alaric, sending him off balance before smashing him to the ground. Alaric sensing the sudden change in Qul'dan's strategy, barely managing to evaded the wristblade driving down to his head. He rolled out of the way, the blade bitting deep into the ground and Alaric gave a fierce kick to Qul'dan's face before rolling himself to his feet. Qul'dan wasn't affected by that and he ripped his wristblade out of the ground and charged at Alaric who quickly resorted to the defensive.

Both fighters were now nothing but blurs as they fought. The sounds of blows impacting armour and flesh sounded between them. But Qul'dan was the quickest as Alaric was slowly but surely being beaten down. But Alaric would not falter.

It was evident that while the Rage gave Alaric the edge in fighting a yautja, a yautja with the Rage coursing in it's veins was nigh unstoppable. Qul'dan was faster and more stronger then Alaric, even in his Rage state, who was unable to reach for his great axe to even the fight.

Qul'dan was getting more ecstatic as Alaric was getting more and more beaten up but was defiantly holding on, his Rage just managing him to hold on.

Qul'dan enjoyed the fact that Alaric was holding out for so long. Now, he decided to take the fun to a higher level. And started by momentarily lowering his guard

Alaric, instinctively sensing a gap in Qul'dan's defence, attacked with give a fierce punch to Qul'dan's face followed by a double roundhouse kick, each connecting with a satisfying crack. Qul'dan weathered the blows and a grin broke out on his face.

He had let Alaric get close.

"Ooh, the Slayer is playing rough!" Qul'dan shouted before brutally smashing Alaric hard into the ground with a backhand swipe. "Just how I like it!"

Qul'dan grabbed Alaric by the hair and yanked him off the ground. Alaric was like a cat being thrown about from it's armpits by a small child. Qul'dan slammed him into the ground, a cloud of snow erupting around him, Alaric just barely managing to land on his hands and feet, absorbing the shock through his limbs before Qul'dan swung him over his head. Qul'dan swung Alaric around for a few cycles, slamming him into the ground with loud thuds a few times before hurling him like a bola into a large stack of crates. Alaric crashed into the crates with a roar, muffled by the loud crash of metal against metal and clattering of ore as the whole stack collapsed around him in a cloud of snow.

"Bullseye!" Qul'dan yelled out in victory.

Mal'kah spoke out now that Alaric was temporally incapacitated.

"Qul'dan, hurry up and finish him off!" he ordered.

Qul'dan shot him a defiant glare.

"I've waited a long time for this moment!" he shouted back. "Stay the fuck out of my fight!"

"Qul'dan, don't let him tap in!"

The crate wreckage at that point started to rumble and then something surprising happened. Alaric let out a load roar as he erupted, battered and bleeding from the debris in a flash, sending scrap flying in all directions. Qul'dan was taken back at first but then laughed in delight.

"So you want some more?" he questioned, as Alaric charged at him. "Fine, I can spare some more!"

Alaric roared inhumanly loud as he jumped into the air, both feet aiming for Qul'dan's face like before but Qul'dan reacted with lightning speed. He grabbed Alaric by his boots and slammed him hard into the ground before hurling him into the wall were the APC was embedded. Alaric connected to the rock wall on his back with a loud crack of bone and a loud yell from his lungs before he landed in a heap to the ground.

His landing was enough to make the initiates cringe. Mal'kah himself even flinched. An impact like that would have surely knock Alaric's skeleton out of alignment and, judging by the unnatural angle one of his arms, it positively had.

Qul'dan charged at Alaric roaring loudly and, just as Alaric got to his knees, smashed him into the wall a second time, embedding him several inches into the rock and causing hairline fractures to spread like a wildfire. Qul'dan then ripped Alaric out of the wall, blood seeping from his cut and battered body, before hurling him to the opposite wall by the ice tunnel. Alaric flew like a rag doll, his limbs flailing before hitting the wall with a sickening crack before landing in a heap. Alaric coughed up blood violently, cracking bones back into position as he barely managed to heave himself up as Qul'dan raced up towards hims.

Qul'dan smashed Alaric to the ground, before rearing up his foot for a crushing stomp. Alaric, as best as his battered head would allow, looked around for a weapon of some kind and he found a sharp shard of metal. No doubt from his explosive entrance from the refinery before. This was his chance to inflict some real damage on Qul'dan and he wasn't to waste it. He rolled hard and fast, Qul'dan's foot impacting the ground with a loud thump. Alaric grabbed the shard and stabbed it deep into Qul'dan's knee, hopping to sever the tendons and render his leg useless. The shard penetrated the armour and speared right through Qul'dan's knee. Alaric twisted the fragment trying to maximise damage as Qul'dan bent down.

Qul'dan simply chuckled as he reached down.

Qul'dan finally managed to get his claws around Alaric's neck, his wristblades retracting before picking Alaric up like a rag doll and ramming him brutally hard into the wall. Alaric let out a loud roar as the air was smashed out of his lungs. Even under the Rage and having exceptionally high pain suppression, the punishment at the hands of the Rage enhanced Qul'dan was crippling Alaric badly. Keeping Alaric pinned, he reached down and tore the shard from his leg, blood seeping out and the bleeding stopped within a few seconds. Alaric tried to reach for his great axe on his back but Qul'dan beat him to it. Qul'dan grabbed his hand and wrenched it down hard before lifting the weapon from it's holster.

"You want this?" Qul'dan asked, before dropping it at his feet. "Well, you can't have it!"

Qul'dan then proceeded to give Alaric the headache of the century by punching him in the face repeatedly.

The initiates could only watch in horror as Alaric was having the life beaten out of him. Ly'enta wanted to rush out to help Alaric but Mal'fax grabbed her shoulder and shook his head at her. In truth, despite their intentions, there was nothing that they could do to help Alaric now and if they did, they would only get in the way and prolong this torture. Kra'vyx, struggling to get on his elbows watched on and was defiantly trying to shuffle over, despite his own injuries and being restrained by Fel'tak.

Mal'kah was observing from the sides, patching up his wounds and watching as Qul'dan was taking his time in killing Alaric. He saw that Qul'dan was dragging this fight as long as he wanted, fulfilling his overdrawn urge for combat.

Like a predator toying with it's prey.

Deep down, Mal'kah wasn't approving of this. Not that he wouldn't follow his Lord's orders, but turning the fight into sadistic torture was against the hunter's code. No better then a badblood's level.

Qul'dan, enough of this!, Mal'kah urged in his mind. Finish him off before his power awakens!

Qul'dan, however, had no intention of finishing Alaric off yet.

"This stuff is amazing!" Quld'an shouted in praise while punching Alaric in the face repeatedly. "I feel like Cetanu himself!"

He stopped punching Alaric momentarily, finishing with an lung emptying punch to the gut so that he could gloat. Alaric shook his head and coughed up blood, trying to blot out the pain and dizziness. Blood was streaming from his chest and nose and mouth, cuts were littering his face and arms and his warpaint was now so smudged that it was indistinguishable from the bruising forming around his face. But, miraculously, nothing other then a few ribs were broken, a twisted arm and several joints sprained. His eyes however showed just how weak he was becoming. His eyes were no longer crimsons orbs but his irises were still shining showing that he was just barely keeping his rage under control.

The blood stopped flowing from his nose within a few seconds.

"Your bloodline's power is amazing." he told Alaric, gloating over his supposed victory. "How ironic that even you, yourself, can't handle it."

Alaric grunted as he defiantly tried to dislodge Qul'dan's iron grip.

What do you know of my Bloodline? Alaric thought in his oxygen starved brain. How did you even learn to use the Rage?

"Look at you. Just like you were one year ago: A weakling!"

"Says the coward who would kill innocent children?" Alaric coughed back.

Qul'dan closed his grip even tighter, choking Alaric and lightly crushing his windpipe.

In his mind, Alaric could hear his family's screams and the insane laughter at their torturous demise.

Qul'dan then held Alaric by the neck with one hand, slid him further up the wall, rocks digging into Alaric's back, while he withdrew back the other. Qul'dan clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking and his wristblades extending, glinting with murderous intent.

"My Lord will reward me greatly for this." Qul'dan cackled with confidence before driving his blades forward. "Time to die, Slayer!"

Qul'dan nearly had ran Alaric through with his blades if not for a welcome piece of divine intervention. A shot was heard coming from the refinery and the next thing that happened was Qul'dan's wristblades just exploded into a hail of shrapnel.

Qul'dan's fist stopped just centimeters from Alaric's gut as the blade itself tumbled to the ground.

Another shot was heard and his other set of wristblades exploded. Alaric didn't even flinch and Qul'dan watched as his favourite weapons fell apart from his arms as twisted scrap.

"What the?" Qul'dan sputtered.

Alaric looked up to the refinery where the shots were heard from, as did Mal'kah. The initiates looked up also and they saw Alaric's rescuer.

Up on a refinery balcony, resting on the rail, was the reflecting light coming from the barrel of anti material rifle and the cloaked marine who wielded it.

"Sergei!" Alaric choked.

The russian archangel was up on the balcony, looking down his scope and hidden under his cloak. He casually and fluidly worked the bolt on his rifle, the spent shell pinging out before readying for his next shot.

"Now the odds are even!" Sergei shouted back, cocking his rifle. "Get him, Reaper!"

Mal'kah located Sergei on the balcony and his plasmacaster locked into firing position. Sergei saw the veteran take notice of him through his scope and was already planning on relocating from his position as he heaved his rifle up.

"Time to pluck this angel's wings." Mal'kah growled slipping on his mask.

The tri-sight homed in on Sergei, who had now lowered his rifle. Sergei cursed in russian as he saw the sights home on his head and the plasmacaster charge up.

"Sergei, get out of there!" Alaric called out, before being smacked against the wall by Qul'dan.

Mal'kah fired a shot at Sergei. The Archangel ducked in time and the wall behind him blew up in a flash of blue and twisted metal. Sergei grunted as the shockwave and bits of red hot frag went erupting around him, tearing his cloak to shreds.

Mal'kah fired more shots at the Archangel and Sergei sprinted across the deck, dodging plasma bolts by an inch and getting more cut up by flying shrapnel. Mal'kah then proceeded to hunt down the sniper, giving a flourish with his sickles and giving chase.

Alaric resumed his struggle against Qul'dan who had now returned his attention. He grunted as he decided to change his method of death dealing.

"Fine, I won't gut you like a pig." he corrected, tilting his eyes back to Alaric. "I'll crush the life out of you, like an insect under my foot, instead."

Alaric had to get out of this death grip immediately. And he had to get out now.

Focus, Alaric thought before shutting his eyes and reciting a prayer. Ancestors of the hallowed past, give me the strength to defeat the enemy of our clan.

Sergei jumped down from the balcony as the last section of wall exploded. Rolling onto the ground to absorb the fall, Sergei got to his feet in a snow cloud and aimed his rifle at Mal'kah. He managed to get one shot off, Mal'kah narrowly dodging the shot with scrapped his left pauldron deepy before charging at Sergei, roaring loudly. Sergei ditched his rifle and drew his shashka sword and lowering himself into a defensive stance.

Blades clashed and sparks flew as the two combatants met. Mal''kah was surprised when Sergei's sword had withstood his sickles. Sergei quickly maneuvered around Mal'kah's attack, resorting to speed and skill to over come the veteran's superior strength. Mal'kah gave off disciplined strikes which Sergei narrowly managed to evade or block. Sergei counterattacked when he could with focused stabs or swipes, but he was not the close combat specialist that Alaric was. He was trained for long range shooting and sniping, not close quarters.

Oomans replicated God-Forged blades? Mal'kah thought with genuine surprise. Inferior make but commendable none the less.

He then heard fast and almost silent steps running towards him from behind. Turning his head, Mal'kah saw the shining curved blade of a katana and the archangel who wielded it. He raised his second sickle and parried the blow in a shower of sparks.

"About time, Mac!" Sergei said, maneuvering around Mal'kah to attack.

Mac didn't say anything, his attempted silent kill foiled and was now concentrating on a stand up fight. Mal'kah flourished his sickles at Mac, the archangel nimbly dodging and counterattacking. Sergei charged in to support his comrade.

Impressive, Mal'kah thought. These Archangel oomans are more worthy then I first thought. And I never thought I would fight another Samurai again.

Qul'dan kept Alaric in his grasp, watching as the veteran took on the two spec ops marines. He didn't mind this intrusion too much, as it meant new playthings for him to break. Alaric was still struggling to get free and Qul'dan occasionally smacked him against the wall to silence him.

Sergei and Mac were holding their own against Mal'kah, managing to evade or block his attacks. Mal'kah was content in testing their capabilities. He would attack one or both of them to test each of their skills in movement, evasion and hand eye coordination.

Despite their courage and extensive combat training, the two archangels could only hold out for so long against the more stronger and experience veteran hunter.

Mac, after countering a diagonal swipe from a sickle, was smacked hard from a backhand, flying through the air for a few feet before into a stash of crates, causing them pile to collapse on him as he gave out a yell. Sergei attacked Mal'kah while his back was turned, hoping to run him through the heart. Mal'kah fluidly evaded the attack, before driving his elbow into Sergei's back, sending the archangel into the snow. Sergei cursed in russian as he recovered to see Mal'kah rearing up at him. Before he could dodge, Sergei had his sword swatted hard from his hand before being grabbed around the neck and then thrown hard into the ground.

Sergei barely had time to roll out of the way as Mal'kah stabbed the ground just inches from his head. Sergei drew his knife from his shoulder scabbard and jabbed into Mal'kah's armour, managing to slip in between the armour plates protecting his right arm. The blade dug deep into Mal'kah's bicep and Sergei twisted the blade. Mal'kah grunted, suppressing the pain.

Mal'kah grabbed Sergei's hand and pulled the knife out with one fluid motion, dislocating the russian's wrist with a crack. Mal'kah then grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the ground again and heaving him up and over his head, throttling the archangel.

Qul'dan saw that Mal'kah had this sudden variable under control and resumed his torture, and soon to be execution, of Alaric.

"You should've heard your son squeal like a stuck pig." Qul'dan said, tauntingly. "I wonder what your second pup would've squealed like? Had it been born."

Alaric strained even harder, his anger at this point burning through his body, even further at those words against his family until something in his mind awoke. Something locked away within him, his whole bloodline. It was the fire in his blood as was normal whenever he went into Rage. But it felt stronger. More purer then before. He could feel it fill up his whole body, granting new strength and his senses felt like they were awakening to a level they never reached or even thought existed.

Then he heard whispers inside his head. Chanting to be precise, by voices he had never heard in his life and they were speaking in the Slayer tongue. And as the chant was getting louder and more clearer, Alaric understood what the chant was.

He read about it in his tome covering the battle hymns and prayers of his clan but had never used it.

The chant of inner power.

His ancestors, if that what the voices were, may have answered his prayers.

Alaric's eyes opened as the chanting ceased and they surged once more into crimson orbs. Qul'dan gave an excited cackle as his fun was going to keep resisting. But Alaric didn't didn't stop there as he was being smashed into the wall. After a minute of intense struggling, rock breaking, and Qul'dan gloating, Alaric underwent another transformation as he suddenly went calm, breathing growl-like breaths. His eyes were actually starting to glow with an intense bio-luminescent ferocity slowly but surely. It was like his eyes were aflame. And if one looked closer enough, the light withing his eyes was like the auroras in the night sky.

That was the first sign that Qul'dan saw as he stopped smacking Alaric against the wall.

"What the?" Qul'dan said in surprise.

He then paid sight of Alaric's face and he saw strange white glowing lines, like tattoos and yet not, appear in an intricate network of lightning arcs and sweeping curves in his skin, flowing from his eyes and covering his entire face before leeching down his neck. Like a mask of archaic primal design, not unlike his warpaint, had bled into Alaric's face. Alaric then grabbed a hold of Qul'dan's hands while the yautja was distracted and started to pull. Qul'dan shook out of his stupor, noticed what he was doing and was applying more strength into throttling Alaric.

But something was wrong.

Somehow, against all logical thinking, Alaric was getting stronger. Even with the serum coursing in Qul'dan's body, Alaric was slowly overpowering him.

"What... What is this?" Qul'dan stammered as he saw the lines pulse down Alaric's arms.

Alaric had by now managed to loosen Qul'dan from his neck, opening up his airways for precious oxygen to flow down and was able to say what he had been trying to say since Qul'dan first started choking him.

"Get... ...the fuck... off!" Alaric roared in a voice that didn't seem human.

Or even his own.

Alaric got his leg between himself, boot to Qul'dan's chest and with a hard forceful shove, Qul'dan lost his grip on Alaric's neck and was sent rolling onto his back a dozen meters away. Alaric landed nimbly on his feet.

Mal'kah turned his head in the direction of Alaric's roar, ignoring his throttling of Sergei, and his eyes went wide when he saw Alaric.

By the gods, Mal'kah thought. Qul'dan, you idiot!

Sergei, following Mal'kah's gaze, saw Alaric and his eyes went wide. Having fought alongside Alaric during many missions for most of Alaric's career, he knew what Alaric was capable of.

But he, nor anyone else, had never seen Alaric like this before.

"I think your friend has pissed Alaric off to the next degree." Sergei choked

Mal'kah tilted his head back to Sergei.

"Evidently, yes." Mal'kah agreed. "I think a safer distance is required."

Malkah went about taking Sergei off, still in his iron grip, to a safe distance just as Mac came round. The Archangel groaned as he heaved a crate fragment off his head and body and he saw Alaric in his new state. He couldn't help but let a few choice japanese words slip his mouth before barricading himself within the rubble.

The initiates' reaction to Alaric's sudden change were of confusion. Alaric, despite all the crippling punishment he had been taking, had suddenly shoved Qul'dan back like flicking an annoying insect off your arm.

Qul'dan picked himself up from the ground. Unlike every one who was in a combination of awe and perplexity, Qul'dan was one of excitement.

"So you do have some fight left!" he shouted in glee. "Come on then, Slayer! Let's fight!"

Alaric just stood there, panting heavily as he reached for his great axe by his feet. But rather oddly, instead of taking it up, he just tossed it to where his other axes were laying, landing with a loud clatter before walking directly to Qul'dan, taking a slow and calm pace. His eyes and the lines on his body surged with inner power.

In Alaric's heightened senses, he saw something else. On Qul'dan's forehead, appearing to burn into his flesh, was a glowing rune. His family's rune. The indicator of the Marked.

"Hand to hand?" Qul'dan asked, cracking his knuckles. "Fine by me!"

Qul'dan didn't wait to think out his attack as he charged at Alaric with a loud roar.

Alaric, for a lack of a better word, blipped out of existence as Qul'dan tore right past him. Qul'dan skidded to a halt in confusion, turning his head back to see Alaric standing right where he was with his back to him.

Qul'dan was stupefied as to what just happened and he was more stupefied when Alaric turned his head towards him. Qul'dan saw the cuts and bruises on Alaric's face and arms knit with disturbing speed. and fade and the blood that seeped from his wounds just stopped bleeding.

Qul'dan, casting his puzzlement aside, charged at Alaric once more. He punched out for Alaric's head and once again Alaric blipped again and Qul'dan skidded to a stop again. Qul'dan then turned and charged him for a third time, only for Alaric to faze out and to reappear in the air right by Qul'dan's head with a leg coming down for him. Alaric's boot connected to the back of Qul'dan's head with a loud crack, sending the yautja face first in the snow. Alaric then grabbed Qul'dan by the leg and tossed him away into a wrecked truck with a loud crash.

Qul'dan picked himself up, holding the back of his head and shrugging off the concussion that was swelling in his head. He looked back at Alaric and saw him walking towards him, the lines on his body and his eyes surging with light.

"Are you a fucking ghost!" Qul'dan shouted. "Why can't I hit you!"

Qul'dan looked at the snow from where he was before his sudden flight and he saw what was really happening. There were footprints where Alaric was walking, and saw that there were steps out of line where he once stood, indicating that he was in fact dodging out of the way. Alaric was dodging so fast it was like he wasn't moving at all to the naked eye or even to Qul'dan's enhanced vision and reflexes.

"So, you're fast all of a sudden." Qul'dan said, reaching for a steel girder that was in the trucks load pad. "But you're still frail as any ooman!"

Qul'dan swung the girder to Alaric's head with a load roar of exertion and Alaric did something unexpected. He brought his right forearm up to block the girder and with a loud metallic thump, the girder was stopped in its tracks and had bent out of shape slightly. No damage to his arm was received, even though his gauntlet had buckled completely, as Alaric eyes flashed intensely and he wrestled the girder from a shocked Qul'dan's grip.

"You want this?" Alaric asked, quoting what Qul'dan said with his axe. "Have it!"

He then proceeded to beat Qul'dan senseless with it. The first and only blow smacked Qul'dan to the left like a baseball in a major league game, the big yautja landing face first in the snow and skidding for a few feet.

Mal'kah sighed saw he saw Qul'dan feebly move his limbs. Sergei watched on, letting out a long whistle of surprise.

_Qul'dan, you just had to draw it out too long_, the veteran thought. _Oh well, as the ooman saying goes: You made your bed, sleep in it._

Alaric tossed the even more bent girder away over his shoulder, the slab of metal thumping into the snow and paced over, his eyes and the lines on his body flashing more intensely.

Qul'dan heaved himself onto his knees. He shook his head a few times to shake off the concussion from the impact. He looked up to Alaric who was coming closer and closer.

_How has he gotten this strong in such short time?_ He thought. _It's not possible! Gotta kill him now!_

Qul'dan heaved himself up, cracking some bones back into place as he got to his feet. The look of anger in his face was evident.

"Thats it!" Qul'dan shouted. "No more games! You die now, Slayer!"

Alaric merely cracked a grin.

"You cannot defeat death." He said, his voice resonating. "Death is what all life meet in the end."

Qul'dan readied himself, cracking his knuckles and his neck.

"Then get ready to meet yours!" he roared before charging.

Alaric caught the oncoming punch with one hand, skidding back as Qul'dan pushed him along. Alaric then braced himself, his boots digging into the ground and they came to a skidding halt. Qul'dan punch out with his other fist and Alaric grabbed that as well.

Alaric, in a feat of great finesse and skill, did a backwards flip and kicked Qul'dan in the jaw with a loud bone fracturing crack. And he followed up a punishing downwards kick at the back of Qul'dan's head.

Qul'dan hit the ground again, clutching the back of his head and rolling to one side.

"What is this?" Qul'dan sputtered, scrambling to pick himself up. "How did you get such power!"

Alaric didn't answer as he picked Qul'dan over his head and hurled him into the APC with a roar. Qul'dan crashed inside and Alaric blurred right inside after him. Several loud metallic clashes were heard resonating from within. From something large being rammed against the APC's superstructure, causing the vehicle to rock from side to side. Qul'dan could be heard shouting from within, indicating that he was the one being pummeled. With a yell from Alaric, Qul'dan went flying back out, looking more beat up then he did when he went flying in.

Qul'dan landed in a heap and scrambled to his knees as Alaric stepped out of the APC, the glowing lines and eyes making him out as some kind of otherworldly being. Like an angel from the heavens or a demon from hell.

In fact, what Qul'dan saw in his battered head was something disturbing. Instead of Alaric, in his place was a yautja warrior clad in jet black armour with glowing runes of unknown dialect burning like stars, archaic but yet incredibly advanced. Covering the armour was robes that seemed to have been made from the void of space itself. The eyes of the mask on the yautja's face were like balls of crimson flame.

Qul'dan could think of only one person who this could be. It was a figure who was prominently featured in the yautjan pantheon.

_Cetanu!_ Qul'dan thought. _No! He's gonna get my soul!_

The visage suddenly dissipated and Alaric was into view once more, still pacing towards him. Qul'dan was somewhat confused from the sudden change in his vision. He concluded it was just the concussion making him hallucinate, but it was still unnerving.

Qul'dan watched from the ground and saw that Alaric was veering off, heading for the ice tunnel. Alaric has going to retrieve Qul'dan's intact wristblades.

Qul'dan saw his chance and he ran towards Alaric as fast as his battered body would let him. Alaric might have heard Qul'dan thundering behind him but he didn't react to it as he stooped by the blades.

Qul'dan managed to grab Alaric from behind as he was about to reach down, into a bear hug.

"I gotcha now!" Qul'dan cackled as he started to squeeze. "I'm gonna pop you like a zit!"

Alaric didn't say anything as he slowly but surely forced Qul'dan's arms off. Qul'dan frantically tried to keep Alaric in his grip but Alaric wasn't having any of it. Alaric managed to wrench one of his arms free and then drove it backward right into Qul'dan's gut. Qul'dan felt it right through his armour, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Alaric then raised the ante by smashing blow after blow into Qul'dan's gut. Qul'dan could only take them with eyes bulging as he tried not to lose his grip, and his breath. Alaric was building up more and more power with each thump and Qul'dan was struggling even to stand at this pace. But there was only so much punishment that anyone could take. With one last pile-driving blow, Qul'dan lost his grip and fell backward, gasping and retching for breath and eyes ready to pop out of his skull..

The damage to his armour spoke for his damage internally. The armour protecting his abdomen had now been completely caved in, reduced to a pulverised mass of metal that fell apart when he hit the ground.

Alaric turned to Qul'dan, his eyes surging and the lines on his body pulsing as Qul'dan got to his knees. Alaric then delivered a sweeping kick to his gut, sending him away a few feet and once more into the ground in a heap. He then bent down and picked up the blades, slipping them into his belt.

Qul'dan heaved himself to his knees again, coughing up blood and the contents of his stomach with a loud vomiting retch. He coughed and sputtered, looking at the glowing splatter in the disturbed snow and he could see that the bleeding wasn't stopping as quick as before as blood continued to trickle from his mouth. Qul'dan eye's widened with horror as he realized what was happening to him.

His body's immune system was starting to counteract the serum and it was now starting to lose it's effectiveness and with it, his heightened abilities.

_Not good_, he thought. _Gotta kill him now!_

Qul'dan riled himself and he charged back at Alaric as he unleashed a lightning fast barrage of blows to Alaric. Alaric blipped out of the way out of each and every one and reappeared behind Qul'dan. Qul'dan didn't stop to think as he lunged at Alaric. Alaric evaded the increasingly clumsy attacks, responding with a calculated kick or punch that was more intended to psych Qul'dan out.

It would seem that Alaric, in an act of cruel irony towards the sadistic brute, was now toying with Qul'dan. Mal'kah watching from the sides knew that.

Qul'dan, unknowingly to him, landed a few blows on Alaric. Alaric weathered each one before reversing the next attack, Qul'dan overreaching himself and then delivering a roundhouse kick to the face. Qul'dan staggered back a few paces, blood spraying from his face in a nice arc. Alaric then delivered a barrage of his own, smashing Qul'dan throughout his body before kicking his legs out from under him and piledriving his elbow into Qul'dan's face.

Qul'dan rolled to one side and, in an act of desperation, grabbed a syringe from a pouch on his belt. The syringe was full of the glowing lava like fluid that Alaric had been injected with that day. Alaric bent down to roll Qul'dan onto his back. Qul'dan lunged to his feet with his trump card and got Alaric right in the neck. The pain fluid surged into Alaric's body and Qul'dan started to cackle in supposed victory.

"Gotcha!" he shouted in supposed victory.

But something disturbing was happening. Alaric was not noticing that he had been spiked, not showing any pain in the slightest from his movements. He simply grabbed Qul'dan's hand, squeezing with enough force to relinquish his grip on the syringe and fracture a few bones with a loud crunch. Qul'dan grunted as he tried to prevent Alaric from getting free. Then Alaric wenched Qul'dans arm down hard with a loud crack of bone, followed by a knee into his already punished gut that brought Qul'dan to his knees as he pulled the syringe out of his neck.

"How! Why isn't the pain serum working!" he shouted, stifling back the pain. "Even you couldn't withstand it!"

Alaric grabbed Qul'dan by the dreadlocks and wrenched his head up to face him. Qul'dan could see Alaric tilt his neck, showing where Qul'dan jabbed him. Qul'dan's eyes went wide when he saw the serum literally being forced out of Alaric's body. The serum trickled down his neck, intertwining with the glowing lines on his neck in contrasting white and orange.

"Adapt or die." Alaric quoted before he smashed Qul'dan in the face with his knee.

Qul'dan fell backwards into the snow, clutching his face as more blood seeped profusely from his mouth. Alaric then drove a foot down towards Qul'dans head. Qul'dan managed to roll out of the way and then kicked out at Alaric. Alaric grabbed Qul'dan's foot and pulled hard, heaving Qul'dan off the ground before slamming him hard back down like a sledgehammer forcing down a spike.

Alaric reached for one of Qul'dan's pouches. He then grabbed whatever was inside and he showed it to the beaten up Qul'dan. Qul'dan's eyes went wide when he saw what it was. It was a vial of the pain serum. He struggled to get free as Alaric kicked his legs from under him, bring the yautja to his knees. Alaric then headbutted Qul'dan to the ground onto his back and Alaric then knelt down, grabbing Qul'dan's battered face.

"Open." he growled, popping the vial seal off.

Qul'dan kept his mouth shut and tried to force Alaric off him. Alaric dodged the blows without so much as flinching as he forced Qul'dan's mouth open. He forced the yautja's mouth open with such force that his jaw was cracking in it's joints. Alaric, to make sure it would stay open, thumped Qul'dan in the gut, making him yelp and opening his mouth. Alaric, faster then a naked eye could see, forced the vial's contents down the yautja's throat.

Qul'dan tried to vomit it back up but it was futile. Within moments, even breathing was causing unimaginable pain. Not even the last remnants of the rage serum could alleviate it.

Now anything that Qul'dan would do or receive would bring unimaginable pain. Nothing more then he deserves.

Alaric heaved him up and held him by the throat, holding high over his head and the yautja's feet leaving the ground.

"This is only a fraction of the pain you caused me." Alaric said. "And now, it will be paid in full!"

Alaric slammed Qul'dan hard into the ground with a loud thud and erupting snow before giving a fierce punch to Qul'dan's face. And in his heightened sight, Alaric saw something odd. A white mist evaporating out of Qul'dan's mouth, obscuring his head as he retched in pain.

Alaric didn't know what that mist was and, in his heightened state, he didn't care.

Qul'dan was then hurled onto the platform, blood trailing through the air and landed with a loud thump against the decking. Alaric drew Qul'dan's wristblades and then impossibly jumped high into the air right before him and drove a knee right into Qul'dan's back. Qul'dan gave out a loud roar of pain that echoed throughout the caves and possibly the entire planet.

Alaric got up and he saw that Qul'dan was trying to feebly crawl away and he wasn't having any of it.

"Oh no, you don't!" Alaric roared.

He raised the remnant's of Qul'dan's wristblades and with incredible power, he drove them right into Qul'dan's lower legs, one for each limb, piercing armour, flesh and bone, nailing the yautja to the deck. Qul'dan gave out a loud roar of pain as Alaric walked up. Alaric stood on Qul'dan's back before stomping his head into the deck and then, to make sure Qul'dan couldn't free himself, roughly grabbed Qul'dan's arms.

"This is for Sam and Ares." Alaric snarled as he got a good grip on Qul'dan's wrist's.

Alaric gave Qul'dan's arms a long hard tug, using his boots to hold down Qul'dan's head and back. Qul'dan thrashed around in desperation, fighting through the pain to get free but Alaric had Qul'dan right where he wanted him and he wasn't going to let him go.

Alaric pulled even harder, twisting Qul'dan's arms for greater leverage. The battered armour was creaking and starting to fracture from the strain.

Alaric's eyes and the lines on his face and arms glowed more intensely, like he was about to go supernova, as he pulled harder and harder. Bones were heard popping and cracking. Qul'dan was still defiantly trying to get free but Alaric was like pulling like a freight train hauling cargo. Blood was starting to seep from between the armour protecting Qul'dans fore arms. And bones were starting to crack.

"And..." Alaric said as he waited for the moment to come.

With one final tug and a roar of exertion, followed by a roar of pain from yautja, Alaric tore both of Qul'dan's arms out of their sockets at the elbows with a loud crack of bones in gore streaked arcs of green. However, due to the last remnants of serum coursing in his veins, the bleeding had stopped almost instantaneously. Alaric hopped off Qul'dan and held up the severed arms for the yautja to see.

"Pop goes the yautja." he finished with a rhyme.

Qul'dan saw his arms, limp and lifeless in Alaric's grasps.

"My arms!" Qul'dan shouted, watching his arms dangled lifelessly from Alaric's grip. He struggled to get his legs loose but they were nailed fast. "Do you know how much these arm's are worth, you bastard!" he cursed trying to get up.

Alaric in response did something surprising.

Alaric's eye reverted to normal, the lines on his face faded away and his hair dropped back down. He almost fell down from a sudden decrease in stamina but he defiantly stayed up.

"Now they're worth shit like the rest of you!" Alaric declared, chucking the useless appendages back to their owner.

Alaric panted as he hopped down from the platform, exhausted from coming down from his odd state of inner power as he half walked half staggered over to where his axes laid in the snow, rotating his aching shoulders. He picked up and holstered his hand axes before hefting his great axe onto his shoulder.

Mal'kah watched on as he still had Sergei up by his throat. He was speechless from what he just saw, the power that Alaric had within and had warned Qul'dan about. Sergei was just as speechless, having seen a human, if you could call Alaric that, dismember a yautja with his bare hands.

Alaric met eyes with Mal'kah with the intention of getting to him next.

Qul'dan tried in vain to pull his legs free but they were nailed fast to the decking and the serum was dissipating completely in his veins. He could feel himself getting weaker, coming down from his bout of augmented strength and was now barely capable of moving his limbs. He heard the thumping of boots approach his head and he looked up to see Alaric standing over him. Alaric had a look of disgust on his face and his eyes burned with vengeance as they flashed.

"You like being the conquerer, but how do you like being the conquered?" Alaric asked. "Do you like how it feels?"

Qul'dan continued struggling to get free.

"I wouldn't even bother killing a pathetic excuse of a warrior like you. But, since you took everything from me, I'll make an exception."

Alaric's eyes flashed. Qul'dan desperatly looked to Mal'kah for aid. Mal'kah only shook his head.

"By spilling the blood of the marked, the grudge is fulfilled." Alaric recited as he hefted his axe and raised it above his head.

Alaric would have dealt the killing blow, and bring peace a little closer, if not for a big problem.

A loud series of explosions were heard coming from inside the mines. The charges had detonated, hopefully collapsing the tunnel. A loud series of roaring screeches were heard soon after, as if the whole planet was reacting to the devastation. Alaric lowered his axe in realisation.

"Shit!" Alaric cursed as he looked at the timer on his wrist.

The timer read zero.

Mal'kah relinquished his hold on Sergei and looked all around him as the archangel landed on his feet. Mal'kah walked away from Sergei, heading over to Qul'dan.

"Looks like the bugs are pissed." Sergei coughed before shuffling to safety, reclaiming his sword.

Mac heaved himself to his feet, holding his head. He quickly got up and ran towards Sergei.

"We can't stay here." he shouted, picking up his katana. "We need to move now!"

Fel'tak and Mal'fax were heaving Kra'vyx to his feet as Ly'enta holstered his recovered kataras.

Alaric looked down at Qul'dan, who was still scrambling to get his arms with his stumps. Alaric then noticed something on his armour, one of the clasps that held the now ragged fur to his shoulders. A symbol what looked like an archaic yautja mask with a crown of spikes, possibly a clan glyph or a mark of allegiance.

Alaric's memory suddenly flashed as he remembered that one yautja who had brutally executed his father's squad. Perhaps, these events are related more then he thought.

Whatever the case, this was Alaric's chance to track down the rest of the Marked. Alaric reached down and clasped it.

"I'll take that." Alaric said, ripping the clasp off and taking a shred of fur with it.

Alaric then pocketed it in a pouch on his belt.

"I was going to kill you, avenge my family, but I think I'll let the bugs have you instead." Alaric told the yautja. "Either way, Death will take you in the end."

Alaric hopped off the platform and paced over to the initates. He shot Mal'kah a glare, subconsciously telling the veteran that they'll meet again. Mal'kah responded in kind as he hopped up onto the platform and examined the damage to Qul'dan's legs.

Alaric caught up to the initiates. The four of them were watching Alaric with uncertainty, after hat just happened.

"Come on, lets get you out of here." Alaric said to Kra'vyx.

"What about your vengeance?" Kra'vyx wheezed.

Alaric reached for his pouch and showed him the clan glyph clasp.

"Don't worry about that." he assured, putting it away. "I got it covered. Now lets get you to safety."

Helping Kra'vyx on his shoulder, Alaric lead the initiates to Sergei and Mac who were waiting at the refinery's entry, tending to their own injuries. Mac cracked Sergei's arm back into position with a grunt of displeasure coming from the russian.

Alaric stopped he turned back to Mal'kah who was preparing to free Qul'dan.

"We'll face each other again." he called out, catching their attention. "And I hope you'll fight with honour then cowardice!"

Alaric turned back and carried Kra'vyx to the refinery. Sergei walked up to him, tightening a compression bandage on his arm with his teeth.

"What the hell happened back there, Alaric?" Sergei asked, removing the bandage from his mouth. "What's going on with your body?"

Alaric didn't answer as he had a question too.

"Sergei, what are you two doing here?" Alaric asked. "Where's the Archangels?"

Sergei gestured them to follow him and Mac through the refinery.

"We were ambushed by patrolling bugs." Sergei explained. "They had no choice but to get back to the colony before they were overwhelmed. By chance, me and Mac was inside the refinery at the time and we elected to stay and meet up with you. They're readying the colony for any future attacks in the meantime."

"Then that means we do have a few stragglers out there." Alaric surmised before turning to Ly'enta and Kra'vyx. "Looks like you'll be getting your trophies soon." he said in yautjan before turning back to Sergei. "Did they get away?" he asked in english.

"Da. Sven had managed to get another truck moving. But we'll have to get back on foot Via the quickest route."

Mal'kah watched Alaric and his friends disappear into the refinery and went about pulling out the blades that were pinning Qul'dan down. He grabbed the first blade and gestured Qul'dan to brace himself.

"It would seem the primarch is more intelligent then we first thought." Mal'kah said. "It was waiting for us to bleed each other out before it makes it's move."

The first blade came out with a loud screech of metal and ruptured flesh. He placed the blade by his feet as he reached for the second. He found that the second blade was driven further then the other and it took a lot of force to pull it out. And it felt like it had gone clean through his bones too. Qul'dan stifled back the intense pain as Mal'kah finally pulled it out.

"This was exactly what I was talking about." Mal'kah explained, holstering Qul'dan's blades. "His inner power temporally emerged, but, no, you had to keep toying and goading him and now look at you.

Mal'kah helped the literally disarmed brawler to his feet and supported his weight on his shoulder. Qul'dan felt highly undignified and humiliated by his defeat at Alaric's hands. His injuries added extra sting. Mal'kah poked around in a pouch and pulled out vials of regen serum and pain inhibitors. He jabbed them Qul'dan's exposed chest, provoking a sharp hiss each injection.

"I could've had him" Qul'dan muttered. "I almost had him, but you saw, he took me by surprise."

Mal'kah sighed.

"Your ego and pride will mend." he halfheartedly assured. "For now, we must leave, observe and prepare for our next encounter."

Mal'kah carried a hobbling Qul'dan down the platform's ramp.

"Next time we fight him, he'll die for absolutely sure." Qul'dan declared, before losing his calm. "And I'll be the one to do it!"

He flinched from that outburst as the pain rose in his chest.

"Not if the Primarch beats you first." Mal'kah stated. "Now, we must leave."

Mal'kah carried Qul'dan to safety down the darkness of the tunnels, blood leaving a glowing trail behind them.

* * *

><p>It turned out that the way that Alaric and co came to the refinery via the APC, much to their annoyance, was the much longer, but safer, route. And with the situation at hand, they couldn't afford to waste any time. The fastest and most direct route to the refinery was only negotiable on foot and was rife with hazards. Many areas and tunnels were nothing more but catastrophically tight squeezes between ice drifts, rock fissures, and ungodly ice caverns of razor sharp crystals. Other sections had been attempted to be reinforced in the past but in the end it only prolonged the inevitable collapse.<p>

At least there was one respite and that was the xenomorphs wouldn't be able to follow them this way. Or so they hoped.

Many stretches seemed to be taking them higher and higher, causing them to think that they must be reaching the surface. But Sergei clarified that they were merely traveling though the mountains from which the colony was located under, much to their annoyance.

In fact, with so many tunnels littering this planet, there was no way that all of them were natural. Someone had to have hollowed them out.

Maybe the clan who had built that temple or the xenomorphs were responsible?

It was slow going, trying to get the initiates through these cramped areas, especially Kra'vyx in his battered condition who was now sedated to minimize injures from movement. Alaric was tempted to charge forth, hacking a clear path with his axes but was advised against it. The last thing they need is a shower of razor sharp ice or even the caves collapsing down on them.

But Alaric wasn't going to let any of them fall behind, taking the rear and watching their backs.

Traveling along one of the few spacious tunnels, questions were directed to Alaric. Everyone wanted to know what happened during his battle with Qul'dan.

"Alaric, what happened back there?" Sergei asked, pausing at a relatively more spacious area to let everyone else catch up. "What happened to you?"

Alaric merely shrugged at the question as he helped Ly'enta squeeze through a gap. He then helped Kra'vyx to Ly'enta while he helped Mal'fax get his bulk through

"I don't know what happened." Alaric bluntly said as he squeezed after her.

Everyone now took the chance to stretch their limbs for five minutes. Kra'vyx was seated against the cave wall and checked over by Ly'enta and Mal'fax while Fel'tak was busy stretching his back. Sergei and Mac took Alaric to the side out of the initiates' earshot.

"You don't know?" Sergei questioned

"I never felt anything like it before, so I can't compare it." Alaric stated.

Sergei rubbed his arm, still tender from when Mal'kah wrenched it out of it's socket.

"Wasn't it like whenever you go completely round the bend? It looked like it to begin with." Sergei compared.

"Vaguely." Alaric replied before thinking for a moment. "It was... more intense, purer or something."

Alaric tried to think of how to best describe what he felt.

"It felt like... I had the strength of many within me, or something." He postulated.

Sergei processed this information, not sure what to make of it. "Strength of many? So was it something psychological?"

Mac was thinking of his own explanation as Alaric talked, venturing into the mythical and supernatural when Alaric added another change he experienced.

"And I heard voices." Alaric added.

This caught both his comrades' attention.

"Voices?" Sergei asked. "Alaric, I think all that time you spend alone is starting to mess with your head."

"Not schizophrenia." Alaric clarified. "I was praying for strength against that bastard and I felt something... stir inside my head. Voices that spoke my family's language."

Mac processed this.

"You're saying that your ancestors were speaking to you?" Mac stated, which was relating to that he was thinking. "So, you were in a trance-like state?"

"I don't think that was what I was under. It was more of an... awakening." Alaric clarified.

"Then how does that explain those glowing lines that appeared on your body?" Sergei asked, pointing to Alaric's arms and face. "There's no way that could be psychosomatic."

"I don't know." Alaric shrugged. "But let's face it, if I didn't 'change' we would all be dead."

"Well, I hope we don't run into anymore fights. Not until we're back at the colony at least." Mac concluded.

"Yeah, my arm is still throbbing from that." Sergei added. "And we should keep moving. We get caught out here, we're dead."

With that, they walked back to the initiates. Alaric called to them to get Kra'vyx ready while Sergei moved to the front of the procession. The archangel moved up to a narrow tunnel and stuck his head through. He looked back to everyone after a few moments.

"I hope you lot are ready." Sergei said. "This next area is a bitch."

"How so?" Alaric asked.

"Well... you better suck in your gut and keep your head down." Sergei warned as he squeezed through and everyone else followed.

* * *

><p>Reaching the halfway point, as indicated by signs of Sergei's previous navigational markings, they were now navigating their way through a cavern of low hanging stalactites and spires of stalagmites. It was like they were now suddenly in the maw of a gargantuan beast of rock.<p>

Everyone had the hard task of staying low as they can to avoid any head injuries and not trip over and be impaled on spikes. While the Alaric and the Archangels merely stooped, the initiates were reduced to shuffling along like crabs. Kra'vyx was simply being dragged along as he dozed.

Sergei was up on point, guiding them through. He had left his anti-material rifle back at the refinery, not that it would be of use in these tunnels with it's long length and for the fact that it had been destroyed in the fight with Mal'kah. Mac opted to take his turn in the rear, much to Alaric's reluctance.

Progress was agonizingly slow, uncomfortable and nerve wracking. Extremely so because, against all logic, there was an incessant drip, dripping of water echoing around them.

"How the hell did you even manage to get through here, Sergei?" Alaric called, keeping low.

"Wasn't easy and I had plenty of head banging to prove it." Sergei answered, shuffling between two protrusions of rock.

A thud was heard from ahead and a curse from Fel'tak who had bumped his head again for the eighth time.

"Keep low." Alaric told him in Yautja

Fel'tak looked back at him, rubbing his head and a seething look on his face.

"Seriously, if I get any lower, I'll be dragging my face on the ground." Fel'tak said, rubbing his head.

Mal'fax laughed at that comment as he helped Kra'vyx through. Ly'enta followed suit.

"At least we won't hear you griping if that was the case." She said.

"Oh, ha ha ha. How original." Fel'tak mocked as he turned his head back forwards.

Another thump was heard as Fel'tak got up to stretch and hit another stalactite with an annoyed grunt.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" He fumed. "Ask your archangel friend how far we've got, now!"

Alaric rolled his eyes.

"Sergei." He called out in English. "Fel'tak wants to know how much further till we're out of this cavern?"

It took a moment for Sergei to speak.

"We're reaching the end." Sergei pointed out. "Just round this next bend."

Alaric told Fel'tak the news and Fel'tak responded with a mixture of praise and griping. He ducked under another stalactite, mocked it, and then promptly walked into another. He cursed loudly, provoking a snicker from Mal'fax.

Sergei moved up and stuck his head around the bend, checking for any dangers. After he was sure that there was no threats, he signaled the others to follow him and they moved through the tunnel. Mal'fax helped Kra'vyx through while Fel'tak was busy stretching his limbs and nursing his bruised head, thankful to be out of those cramped spaces at last. Ly'enta followed through and Mac followed after her.

Alaric was about to move through when he paused. His ears twitched as he quickly turned his head back into the cavern, his eyes darting around and searching. He then cautiously reached for Razeal, like he was expecting something to emerge. Mac poked his head back into the cave when Alaric wasn't following.

"What is it, Alaric?" Mac asked.

Alaric, after a pause, relinquished his grip on Razeal. He still kept his eyes searching for anything.

"I thought I heard footsteps behind us." Alaric said softly.

Mac looked around the cavern, trying to see any signs of pursuit against them. He couldn't see any sign off being followed.

"Some of the Bugs following us?" He questioned.

"No. Didn't sound like bugs." Alaric answered. "We should keep moving."

Mac moved on and Alaric followed, giving one last look around before heaving himself through the gap. They had now left that ungodly restricting cavern and were back into a nice wide tunnel. No sooner did they leave than a dark figure slowly crept after them, dripping glowing blood.

* * *

><p>After nearly another agonizingly slow hour of traversing difficult terrain, the group had now reached something awe inspiring. They were in a vast space that was set into a large fissure as vast and far as the eye could see. Almost like they were moving between tectonic plates. In front of them was an arcing bridge that was formed from the same reflecting ice as the caverns. This bridge was roughly the same size as the stone bridge leading to the hive. Light from surface, possibly the dawn, shone down, illuminating the bridge which sparkled and glistened like it was carved from diamonds.<p>

No one had any idea how the ice had formed into a bridge spanning between the chasm walls. One assumption was that there was originally a layer of rock stretching from side to side and ice had accumulated on it over the centuries.

Looking up, through his mask's enhanced vision, Alaric could see that the blizzards had somewhat dissipated and there was now a light snowfall in place of a storm. Snowflakes drifted gracefully down the chasm. He then looked down and saw that the chasm, like the many others, seem to go far down into the planet further than the eye could see.

'_Wel…'_He thought as he removed his mask. _'At least the transmitter would get a better signal.'_

"Where are we, Sergei?" Alaric asked, looking down the chasm as he holstered his mask.

"This is the only direct route back to the colony." Sergei explained. "Only four more kilometers after this."

"And by route, you mean an ice bridge over a bottomless pit with a chance of fracturing under our feet?"

"Don't worry, I navigated it myself." Sergei assured.

Sergei walked up to the bridge, stopping right at the edge where stone met ice.

"Providing you know where the weak spots are." He added under his breath.

Sergei then, somewhat gingerly, placed a foot onto the bridge, paused for a second and then slowly made his way onto the bridge. It was apparent that Sergei was treating the bridge with distrust as he carefully and methodically placed each step. After he had made some progress, he motioned everyone to follow.

"Take it slow and steady." He told them. "I've slipped enough times to know best."

Mac then stepped onto the bridge, following Sergei's path and trying his best not to look down. Ly'enta was hesitant in even laying one toe on the bridge. Mal'fax and Fel'tak were just as reluctant and were looking down the dark abyss, somewhat mesmerized by it.

"By the ancestors, it wouldn't surprise me if their hive was at the bottom of this abyss." Mal'fax surmised before steeling himself. "Fel'tak, help me with Kra'vyx."

Fel'tek looked down at the darkness below as he took Kra'vyx's free arm and help his friend onto his shoulder.

"Well, it would be kinda fitting if you think about." He pointed out. "Demons from the darkness of ages past."

"Shut up and get moving." Alaric urged, watching their backs.

He ushered the initiates to move on ahead, giving Ly'enta a reassuring nudge before moving onto the bridge as soon as they were a few paces away. Ever since the maw-like cavern, he had been constantly watching the rear. He had a feeling that they were being followed but he couldn't tell what was following them. Still, he knew in his gut that it wasn't good.

Taking weight into account, everyone kept a good distance of several paces from each other, aiming to spread the load as much as they could. They were also taking their footing into consideration, being careful not to slip and plummet into the darkness.

The bridge may look thick and sturdy enough to support them but ice is a fickle substance.

"Watch your footing." Sergei warned, as he carefully traced his steps. "Some parts of this bridge are unstable."

A loud crack was heard coming from Mal'fax as a large fracture snaked around his foot. He gingerly lifted his foot and stepped somewhere else, getting a more secure grip on Kra'vyx. Fel'tak was muttering to himself 'don't look down' repeatedly. Then he slipped on a slick spot and he fell to his knees. Mal'fax caught Kra'vyx in time while Fel'tak skidded to the edge and his head peeked over the edge.

Alaric paced over to his aid as Ly'enta reached for her whip.

"Don't look down." Ly'enta urged, flicking her whip to him

"Too late, I did." Fel'tak said, grabbing the whip and being pulled back to safety .

"Careful." Alaric cautioned, helping him up. "Don't rush anything. Step where Sergei steps and don't look down."

Their progress across the ice bridge was agonizingly slow as they stepped each pace with care. Sergei led them through this obstacle, delicately retracing on the route he had memorized from his past scouting. Every now and then, ice would crunch underfoot, causing everyone to stop in their tracks. They would then cautiously resume their hike at an even slower pace.

One wrong step and the bridge would collapse, taking them all into a dark cold death.

They had finally reached the middle of the bridge at the peak of arch when a loud crack was heard behind them causing them all to freeze, the blood rushing from their faces in shock. It came from behind them where Alaric was. None of them even moved an inch, not even to turn around when the ice gave off a smaller series of cracks.

"Alaric, did you just step on a weak spot?" Sergei asked, keeping calm.

"That wasn't me." Alaric said, reaching for his great axe. "We've got company."

They all hesitantly turned around and they saw someone unexpected.

Standing before them was the hunter who had fled during Alaric's rescue of the initiates. And it looked like he had taken the hard way following them. He was battered and bleeding from many cuts that littered his armor and flesh. It looked like he'd gotten on the bad side of either the planet, the xenomorphs or both.

From the limited ornamentation on his armor, this had to be Tan'kor's subordinate.

A large hairline fracture was under his feet, revealing him to be the culprit.

"Just when I thought I got them all." Alaric cursed.

The hunter removed his mask, revealing what looked like a wholly passive face, none of the usual intimidation that revolved around a hunter. He looked like he belonged in a library or a temple then on a hunt. His head was also odd is that he had a smaller then average head crest, reaching back to just half of his head.

The hunter then tossed his mask over the bridge, the piece of gear falling like a leaf in the wind.

"You have proven to be a great nuisance." He said in a soft but harsh tone. "No wonder He was so obsessed with your death."

"You're the one who fled earlier." Alaric concluded.

"You're very observant." The hunter mockingly applauded. "However, after some inner... reflection, I returned."

"Then you have a reason for being here? Other then bleeding out, of course."

"Obviously. I am here to make sure you won't survive past this point. These injuries are merely part off the price."

Alaric scoffed at the hunter's intentions. He couldn't believe that after how the hunter fled during the battle at the refinery that he would return to try again.

"You know full well what would happen if you fight me." Alric told him, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. "I suggest that you crawl back to your leader and return when you have the guts, and health, to fight me."

The hunter chuckled in disagreement before straining when his wounds bled more, dripping onto the ice and pooled around him. He coughed up blood before wiping his mouth.

"I can't do that." He said. "My lord... he would kill me."

"Mal'kah?" Alaric asked. "Obviously since Pinface is all in pieces."

The hunter shook his head.

"No... He who conquered Death." He corrected.

'_He who conquered Death?'_ Alaric thought with curiosity. _'Is that he and Mal'kah's leader? And what does he mean 'He who conquered Death'?'_

The hunter then pulled out a syringe filled with a crystal clear liquid. He evidently seemed hesitant to use it for some reason. He watched the light reflect off of the needle in thought and anticipation.

"I never wanted to do this... again." The hunter admitted. "But He assured redemption will be waiting for me when I succeed."

"Who?" Alaric questioned. "Who is He?"

He reached for the clasp that he took from Qul'dan. He showed the spike crowned mask emblem to the hunter.

"Is this related to him?" Alaric demanded. "Answer me!"

The hunter started to chuckle in a sinister tone. It was apparent that the hunter knew that the two were connected even if he didn't admit it.

"You are a fool. No one can stand against Him." He declared. "Not you, your ancestors, not even your entire bloodline!"

Alaric was taken back by the last words. His ancestors and his bloodline? Qul'dan had mentioned his bloodline during the gloating when he was getting the life pummeled out of him.

This whole ordeal and mystery was starting to be more complicated and Alaric, placing the clasp back into it's pouch, could no longer keep his anger in check.

"What do you know of my bloodline?" He shouted. "Answer me?"

The hunter then brutally jabbed the needle into his neck and squeezed. The mystery fluid went surging into his body. The hunter then withdrew the needle and tossed it down the chasm.

"More then you know." The hunter snarled.

It took a moment before whatever the hunter injected started to work. He started straining, recoiling, and doubling over as if in perceived pain as he grunted and growled.

Alaric was puzzled from this. What had the hunter injected himself with? He looked to the initiates for an explanation on this behavior and only got fear and dread in their eyes.

Sergei and Mac wasn't much help either, guessing in their heads that the hunter was undergoing some kind of biological reaction to whatever he injected.

Something about what the hunter did to himself was scaring the crap out of the initiates. And it was intensifying when the hunter was starting to make feral growls. His muscles started to twitch and veins started to protrude. He then drew a clawed hand across one arm, his talons digging deep into his exposed flesh and blood gushing from his self inflicted wound.

The initiates were now starting to back off, step by terrified step, as the growling grew louder and louder.

"Oh, no." Mal'fax said, dreading what he thought was going to happen. "He didn't..."

"Don't say it!" Fel'tak snapped.

The hunter at that point reared his head at them. And what they feared was a reality. His eyes were blacked over, the veins in his face were protruding and he gave out a long blood crazed, foaming at the mouth, feral roar that echoed throughout the chasm.

Like the planet itself sounded off.

"By the gods!" Ly'enta screamed.

"Hish!" Mal'fax cried.

"I hate it when you're right!" Fel'tak cursed.

Whatever was in the syringe that the hunter jabbed into his neck had activated his kill glands. These glands, located in the neck, when stimulated release hormones into the bloodstream which renders the recipient into a psychotic blood frenzy. Like the process of an adrenaline rush but only far more dangerous. If over stimulated, the Yautja degenerates into a feral bloodthirsty beast.

The latter had happened and now nothing would be able to snap him out of it. He would be a slavering homicidal maniac until killed.

This is one, if not the only, reason why berserkers were so feared by the Yautja.

Alaric stepped forward, readied his great axe, and placed his mask on his face. He had to settle this quickly.

"Get across the bridge and don't stop for anything!" Alaric shouted. "I'll handle this animal."

He then charged towards the feral Yautja, trying to keep as much space as he could between them and the hunter. Both combatants met with a loud crash of bodies.

Sergei and Mac knew at once what was happening, knowing from prior experience that it would be wise to give Alaric space in moments like this. They nodded to each other moved back to the initiates and ushered them to get across the bridge.

"Come on!" Sergei urged.

They both moved themselves between the initiates and Alaric, ushering them away.

Mal'fax continued to carry Kra'vyx who was now coming around and noticing what was going on. His eyes struggled to focus, going all tunnel vision and blurred on him, but he could just make out Alaric engaging the hunter.

"What... What's happening?" He wheezed.

Mal'fax looked down and saw that Kra'vyx had come round. How was he going to explain what was happening?

"Kra'vyx, stay calm." Mal'fax warned as gently as he could.

"What's Alaric fighting?"

"One of those hunter's we faced is back. And he's a Hish."

"H... Hish?"

"Stay calm and let Alaric handle it."

Alaric, in all his years, had never faced off against a hunter in a blood haze before. Every opponent he fought, beast or civilized, had a pattern or style of fighting, something that he could counter. This hunter was completely unpredictable, moving erratically and attacking like a storm.

Alaric was forced to use his axe much less then he hoped because if he missed the hunter and hit the bridge then the whole structure could shatter, sending them all into a dark cold plummet. He had to time his attacks carefully with absolutely no margin of error.

Alaric was soon struck across the face with enough force for his mask to be torn off and it went skidding across the side of the bridge and dropped off the edge.

"Thats it!" Alaric shouted. "You just pissed me off!"

Alaric dodged the next swipe and drove his axe shaft right into the hunter's face with a loud crack, stunning him for a single vital moment. Alaric then swung his axe hard, hoping for a clean kill. The hunter managed to dodge the attack, the axe head whizzing overhead and then charged for Alaric again. Alaric held back the Yautja with his axe as a barrier as they both grappled to keep or remove it, respectively.

A shot was heard and a bullet went whizzing past the hunter's head. Alaric looked back for a moment and saw that everyone was just watching from a distance and not heading over the bridge. Sergei had his sidearm, a heavy duty magnum revolver, drawn and was evidently trying to get another clean shot. Mac was even now drawing his own sidearm to assist.

"What are you doing?" Alaric shouted, shoving the hunter back. "Get across the bridge!"

That distraction would cost him.

The hunter slammed into Alaric with the force of a runaway truck, forcing him into the bridge and the worst thing happened.

Alaric's great axe went flying out of his grip, up over the hunter before embedding it's head into the ice bridge with a loud crack several feet away from them. The archangels and initiates took several frantic paces back as they saw cracks spreading like a spiders web from the blade. Alaric, struggling to keep the hunter at bay, looked at the cracks that spread like blood through the circulatory system under the two of them. And the sound of cracking ice was getting louder.

"Oh, shit." Alaric cursed as he scrambled to get clear.

Then the inevitable happened.

The section of the bridge they were grappling on collapsed with an almighty rumble and Alaric and the hunter slipped off the bridge. Alaric barely had time to grab hold of the fractured edge as the hunter was fanatically trying to pull him down with him by his feet. Alaric's great axe went falling down into the abyss below, whistling through the air. Alaric cursed aloud in fresh anger as one of his treasured possessions was swallowed up by the void.

"Get off my boot!" He roared kicking the hunter in the face.

Kra'vyx heaved himself off Mal'fax's shoulder and immediately tried to rush to his aid but Mal'fax grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Kra'vyx, no!" Mal'fax said. "It's too unstable!"

The ice bridge then cracked even louder, emphasizing his point. Great fracture lines were appearing in it's structure. Fragments started to chip off and more started to follow as Alaric struggled to both detach the frenzied hunter hanging from his leg, intent on taking Alaric with him and to pull himself up with one hand.

Sergei and Mac were backing off with the Russian lowering his magnum.

"Let me go, I can help him!" Kra'vyx shouted, trying to break free.

"Don't!" Fel'tak shouted, rushing over to restrain him.

Kra'vyx, despite his own injuries, managed to elbow Mal'fax in the face and broke free. He started staggered over towards Alaric as Mal'fax recovered but Fel'tak quickly grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Kra'vyx, don't kill yourself!" Fel'tak urged.

"We can't leave without him!" Kra'vyx cried.

Sergei nodded to Mac, they both ventured to the edge and they aimed their pistols. They fired at the hunter to try and knock him loose. Aiming was difficult from their vantage point and most of the shots went wide and the few that did impact did little to help Alaric in dislodging the hunter. And they were in no position to hope for a head shot.

"Can't get a clean shot!" Sergei cursed.

Alaric felt the hunter pull even harder, causing him to slip and was he now barely holding on with his fingers, which were already starting to slip. The damaged section of the ice bridge now gave off a loud series of cracks. Alaric followed the cracks that were snaking their way towards Kra'vyx and the others who were frantically backing off from the cracks.

Alaric, going through the options in his head, now understood what he had to do.

Either he falls or they all fall.

Alaric looked to the initiates and the archangels and he could see the desperate expression on Kra'vyx's face. This wasn't going to be easy.

He steeled himself as he made his choice.

"Run!" Alaric shouted as his eyes surged crimson.

With that, in a supreme act of self sacrifice, Alaric let go of the ledge. Kra'vyx fought at Fel'tak and Mal'fax, screaming and futilely trying to reach to Alaric as he plummeted down to the dark abyss, returning his attention to the hunter. The bridge let out a large crack and the large sections of ice snapped off completely, following Alaric and the hunter down below.

"Move!" Mac ordered, grabbing Ly'enta by the arm.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak heaved Kra'vyx away, the initiate still struggling in vain to follow Alaric, who had now vanished into the darkness. The marines and initiates ran across the ice bridge as it collapsed behind them. The fractures rushed after them with predatory intent and the ice collapsed behind them with increasing speed.

The ice further up the bridge was now starting to lose stability, causing the whole bridge to lose it's rigidity. Everyone now had to put everything into getting across in time. Mal'fax heaved Kra'vyx onto his shoulder, ignoring the initiate's protests and sprinted as hard as he could force his legs. The Archangels quickly and nimbly navigated their way across. Ly'enta was coping as much as she could without slipping. Fel'tak, in comparison, lost his footing several times and stumbled, furthering himself away from the rest.

They were now only meters from the end when the bridge finally collapsed.

"Jump!" Sergei yelled.

They barely managed to get across as the last of the bridge fell apart. Mac and Sergei vaulted off the ice and rolled to a halt followed by Ly'enta. Ma'fax heaved Kra'vyx off as he hopped off just as the last section collapsed. Fel'tak jumped as hard as he could on the falling ice, his arms, and legs flailing through the cold air and was rewarded by landing on his chest on the newly formed ledge. The breath was knocked out of his lungs and he scrambled for a secure hold, sliding back until his head and shoulders were above the ledge. Turning back, he watched as the large chunks of ice collided with each other on their plummet into the void.

Following Alaric to his fate.

"Bye, Alaric." He said as he pulled himself up.

Fel'tak frantically scrambled up the ledge, his feet clawing against the rock and ice face, to see Mal'fax trying to calm hysterical and grieving Kra'vyx down who was laying against the cavern wall and thumping it with his fists in emotion filled frustration. Sergei and Mac were bent over and panting hard, getting their breaths back and muttering in their respective tongues as they watched the Yautja bicker among themselves.

Fel'tak rolled onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief before picking himself up.

"Why didn't you let me help him!" Kra'vyx shouted, distress in his voice.

"Calm down!" Mal'fax ordered, trying to calm Kra'vyx down. "There was nothing we could do."

"There was and you wouldn't let me!" Kra'vyx objected before flinching in pain from his ribs.

"If you had tried, you would've ended up following him down there." Mal'fax stated, drawing a sedative.

Fel'tak walked over and sat down next to Kra'vyx, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

"Kra'vyx, Alaric is gone." Fel'tak stated as Mal'fax tried to administer the sedative. "As much as I hate to say it, there is no way he could survive a fall like that."

"You don't know him!" Kra'vyx cried. "He survived that monster of a bad blood!"

Kra'vyx shoved Mal'fax's hand away from him.

"That's different from falling down a dark void with a Hish grappling him!" Fel'tak corrected.

Ly'enta was silent throughout this. Silently grieving over Alaric in her mind. The only indication of her feelings were simply rubbing her eyes to hide the tears. She was also whispering a desperate prayer for the gods to save Alaric.

"Ly'enta, you alright?" Mal'fax asked.

Ly'enta stopped whispering when she heard his voice.

"I'm fine." Ly'enta answered sharply before moving towards them.

Sergei and Mac watched on as the initiates argued about whether or not Alaric could have been saved. They were perplexed by Kra'vyx's behavior towards Alaric's fall.

"That one is particularity upset about Alaric, Sergei." Mac said. "You think that one must have been close to Alaric?"

"Looks like it." Sergei muttered. "Alaric's involvement with them is getting stranger and stranger."

"He's not going to be much use if he's like this."

Sergei, sensing the distress in Kra'vyx's voice and from Mac's gestures to step in, straightened himself up and walked up to the young Yautja. He ushered Mal'fax and Ly'enta out of the way and knelt down. He placed a hand onto Kra'vyx's shoulder and gave it a shake getting the young Yautja's attention.

"Kra'vyx, listen to me." Sergei told the initiate, not caring if he understood English or not. "I know you're upset about this but you've got to steel yourself. For now, don't worry about Alaric." He then told Kra'vyx his own thoughts on Alaric. "Alaric is the toughest sonuvabitch I have ever met. Throughout all the missions I fought along side with him, he has never let anything stop him, no matter how hazardous the situation or how deadly the enemy may be. Xenomorphs, even a whole hive of them… couldn't kill him. Your race, whole parties of them… couldn't kill him. And so long as there is one spark of life left in him, he will never give up." He then gave Kra'vyx a reassuring pat. "So, for Alaric, don't let him down by giving up."

This heartfelt assurance managed to calm Kra'vyx down, meaning that Kra'vyx understood what Sergei was saying or knew at least from the tone of his voice. Kra'vyx simply nodded his head.

He was still upset but now he wasn't as hysterical.

Sergei got up, content that Kra'vyx calmed down and walked into the dark tunnel as Mal'fax and Fel'tak heaved Kra'vyx to his feet and hooked his arms around their shoulders. Sergei turned back to them as he flicked his lamp on.

"Come on." Sergei said, taking command. "The colony is not far now."

Mac flicked his lamp on and ushered the initiates on. As they entered the dark tunnel, he gave one last look down the chasm and gave a short prayer in his native tongue. A prayer asking the spirits of the shinto faith to protect Alaric. With that, the archangel hurried after the others.

Mac reached Sergei as the guide was reloading his revolver. He gave the initiates a look of positive assurance before asking Sergei a big question.

"You really think Alaric can get out of this one?" Mac asked in a hushed and serious tone.

Sergei didn't answer as he clicked his revolver shut.

* * *

><p>Just because Alaric was plummeting down a dark void of ice and rock, with a psychotic feral Yautja grappling him, doesn't mean it was going to prevent him from surviving. No sooner did he let go of the ledge, than he was already beating the crap out of the hunter.<p>

His first objective was to separate himself from this beast, then he could worry about slowing down his descent. And the sooner he could do that the better. The more they fell the further will Alaric be separated from safety

They exchanged blows with each other, Alaric's disciplined strikes against the hunter's bestial swipes. But despite using every move Alaric could think of, the hunter was persistently hanging on with primal aggression.

Fragments of the ice bridge plummeted down with them, showering them in hails of ice as the larger heavier chunks passed them, crashing loudly below. This, and the gradual reduction in surrounding light, indicated that they were getting close to the bottom of the chasm.

Alaric grabbed a fist size chunk of ice that was zipping past them and smashed the hunter a few times in the face with it. The ice shattered at the third bash but the damage had been done. One of the hunter's eyes were ruptured and glowing blood trailed from the gaping socket but it did nothing to deter it from attacking.

Alaric wrestled with the Yautja, trying to get over him. The hunter had no sense of self preservation, the desire to kill dominating his mind.

Alaric was forced to the bottom as the hunter thrashed him around until Alaric countered and forced him under. Alaric tried to draw Razeal for a point blank head shot but the hunters erratic and bestial motions were restricting his movements.

Not that he would have a chance to use Razeal.

Alaric looked down and saw that things were about to get more out of control. The abyss was starting to get narrower, turning from a canyon into a shaft. Now the brawl was going to be taken in close quarters. He steered themselves to one of it's sides as they dropped through the hole. On cue, lights on Alaric's armor, another feature he included, lit up and illuminated the both of them.

Alaric had an idea to dislodge this crazed Yautja. He forced the Yautja back against into the shaft wall, pinning him into the ragged sides drawing showers of sparks the hunter's already damaged armor. The sparks were soon replaced by glowing blood as the armor wore out in several places. Alaric seized the moment and finally drew Razeal to finish this fight here and now. Unfortunately, the hunter still had Alaric in his grip as he pushed off the wall. A fist flew out, swatting Alaric's pistol out of his hand, the firearm discharging and briefly illuminating the shaft for a split second before it went falling down the shaft.

Alaric was enraged, to put it lightly, that his keepsake of Razeal was suddenly taken from him. His eyes flashed crimson as he smashed the hunter's head into the rocks, tearing a few dreadlocks out and managed to command his plasma casters into firing position, aiming for the hunter's face. But then a hidden arch of ice impacted both of them just as Alaric fired his plasma casters, blue bolts firing in all directions, casting them in shifting blue light as they tumbled. The energized bolts impacted the shaft walls, sending more razor sharp rock and ice down with them.

Alaric was then forced into the cavern wall and his back connected to it. Sparks erupted from his back and his plasma casters as he struggled to shove the hunter back. He managed to push back, narrowly missing another ledge. Then the hunter managed to get onto Alaric's back and grabbed his neck with both clawed hands. Alaric now found himself falling and being strangled with no way to get the hunter off.

Then, in an appallingly convenient moment, Alaric's plasma casters detonated. Blue explosions illuminated the shaft and the force was enough to make the hunter lose his grip and Alaric exploited that opening by reaching for the Yautja's neck and pulling him roughly down.

Alaric repeatedly punched the hunter in the face several times in rage before the hunter forced Alaric by the neck below him. Alaric struggled to prevent the hunter from throttling him again but he saw that the bottom of the shaft was appearing below them.

'_About bloody time!'_ He thought.

Thinking quickly, he shook the hunter off him with a well placed knee to the groin, shoved him in front as a living shield, and waited for the impact to end their fall.

But, unfortunately, this would prove to not be the end.

The impact came with an almighty crack of breaking rock and the two combatants smashed right through it into another plummeting shaft. The hunter took the full brunt of the impact as the rock face and the last remnants of his armor exploded, sending even more sharp fragments falling down with them.

"You've got to be shitting me!" Alaric cursed in frustration.

He then noticed that the more incredibly battered hunter was momentarily dazed from the impact and this was Alaric's chance.

Alaric pushed the hunter away as hard as he could but the Yautja quickly managed to grab a hold of Alaric's belt.

Alaric had to get the hunter off, now or never.

"Get off!" Alaric roared as he wrenched free and drove both his feet down.

Both his boots connected to the hunter's face with a loud crack of bone and the hunter finally lost his grip on Alaric and was sent roaring down the shaft, quickly vanishing from sight as he impacted the walls with loud cracking of bone, flesh, and armor.

Now that distraction was out of the way, Alaric had the urgent problem of stopping his descent.

Thinking fast as he veered towards the nearest wall, Alaric drew both his hand axes, twisted them around to their spiked backs, and drove them deep into the rocky face. Sparks and shards of ice and rocks erupted from the gouges being cut. He could feel that this was having some effect but it was not working fast enough. He dug his boots against the wall for more friction, sparks being drawn from the armor plating scraping the rock. Despite this, he was still going too fast for friction to come into effect.

"Shit!" He cursed _'Too much velocity.'_

It was at this moment that things were going to hit rock bottom. Literally.

Alaric soon found himself surrounded by mist, enveloping him in it's haze. He looked down and saw to his horror that the shaft was coming to an end but not the type of end he was hoping for. Below him and approaching fast was a vast limitless void of misty darkness awaiting him.

He was going too fast to stop. He knew this and all he could do was brace himself for the inevitable drop.

'_This is gonna be hard to negotiate.'_ He thought with dread.

Within the span of a few tortuously long seconds, his axes left the rock and his grip and he fell into the dark abyss, the light from his armor made him look like a like a star plummeting from the heavens. He could feel the temperature plummet and ice started to form on his body. The cold air was stinging his crimson eyes, causing tears to seep into the air and freeze.

As Alaric fell, his thoughts returned to Sam and Ares, Razeal, and his squad. He could see their dead and tortured forms burning into his mind. But most of all, he thought of his promise to Ja'anya. He could hear the cruel laughter echoing around him as the darkness consumed him, mocking him for his failure for vengeance.

Despite this, despite the most impossible odds of his predicament, he vowed to survive.

'_Ja'anya…'_He thought as his vision darkened. _'I will return to you.'_

A sudden violent and loud impact was felt throughout his body and he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Ja'anya awoke with a frightened gasp, shooting bolt upright with her eyes wide, panting hard with her skin sweating bullets. She frantically looked around in the darkness to see where she was, calming down when she remembered that she was in her bed. Her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness confirmed this. She felt all around her and on her, expecting a grisly sensation at her fingertips but she sighed in tense relief.<p>

She rubbed her eyes and groaned sleepily.

"Not again." She whispered to herself.

She has just had another nightmare. The third one that night. But this one felt more intense and real then the others. She could have sworn that she was covered in blood that wasn't hers.

She readjusted herself, the sheet falling to her waist as she rubbed her chaffed neck, disturbing the silver chain around it as she gathered her thoughts.

'_Calm down.'_ She thought. _'Alaric is all right.'_

Ja'anya looked down to her bare chest. She still wore the shield-hawk pendant around her neck, it's bronze and silver patterning glittering as it nestled between her breasts. She had not taken it off all day since learning of Alaric's disappearance. She gently caressed it, feeling the cool metal on her fingertips.

'_I hope…'_She prayed.

She knew that she could be wrong but that wouldn't serve her. She needed to think positive and keep hoping that Alaric and her brother would return. But, after the amount of nightmares she had been having in this night alone, she was starting to grow less confident.

She looked next to her to the spot where Alaric would be sleeping. She reached over and dragged her hand along before clenching the sheets. She then imagined seeing Alaric fast asleep next to her, watching his chest slowly rise and fall as he slumbered.

She laid back down and grabbed his pillow. She brought it close to her and sniffed the faint trace of his scent left on it.

It comforted her but not by much. It would seem that Alaric was right about her not being able to sleep without him after all.

She felt a small tingle originating from between her legs as she remembered her dream, intensified from his scent and, regrettably, the nightmare that ruined it.

She had dreamed that she and Alaric were together in bed in a romantic embrace when, without any warning or sign, he was suddenly cut open, gaping wounds appearing all over his body by invisible claws and his blood pouring out all over them. Then a great darkness swarmed over him, devouring him from this plane of existence. She was left soaked in his blood and she screamed in terror.

'_Not that nightmare again.'_ She thought with disdain and sadness. _'Always the same one that intrudes my dreams._'

She rubbed her eyes as she recognized what the wounds in the nightmare represented. Her fear of Alaric sharing the same fate as her father did. Death from the hunt. One hand reached for her pendant while the other stayed on Alaric's pillow, substituting it as Alaric.

She thought that she had grown out of them by now but with Alaric gone, they arose once more. And was worse then ever.

Her mind, involuntary, went back to that sad day many long years ago.

* * *

><p><em>Kra'vyn's ship landed in the bay with a much harder thud then usual. Zel'tyr had Ja'anya in her arms and Kal'deris, the newly titled and youngest Elder, was standing beside her in his new red cloak and robes. The docks weren't busy and only a light detachment of personnel were on duty. The only other ship was that of supply ship carrying goods from another clan and was being unloaded.<em>

_They had been expecting Kra'vyn to be back for the last two hours and were relieved that he had finally returned home._

_"Kra'vyn's late." Kal'deris stated before smirking. Probably found a new species of plant during his mission._

_"Doesn't surprise me." Zel'tyr agreed. "He's always been like that. It's how we met."_

_Kal'deris turned to Zel'tyr._

_"How is he going to take the news regarding..." Kal'deris started, gesturing to Zel'tyr's exposed slightly bulging gut._

_Zel'tyr smiled as she cradled her belly._

_"He'll be surprised and happy. As he was for Her." She said, before cradling Ja'anya closer. "Ja'anya is happy to have a sibling at last."_

_She looked to her daughter._

_"Got your father's present?" She asked._

_Ja'anya held up the carving she had made. It was of a plant that had many spiraling leaves arcing from it's circular center as a representation of a sun. It was a solar rose and it was said to be able to heal even the most infectious of diseases. Unfortunately, the rose itself is rare and scarcely seen in the galaxy save for few planets and Lai'karis' own botanical gardens. And even then the rose is hard to cultivate._

_"It's very pretty. I'm sure he'll love it." Zel'tyr praised._

_A dock officer walked up to Kal'deris, typing into a datapad. It had Kra'vyn's ship registered on it and he was puzzled from what he was seeing._

_"Elder, something is wrong he told Kal'deris. Kra'vyn hasn't answered our hails, even though clearance was transmitted."_

_Kal'deris turned to the officer._

_"Autopilot would've been engaged."He concluded without a second thought. "He does that every now and then if he is working on something."_

_"Yes, but it is procedure to always personally call in for security reasons." The officer clarified before typing into the pad and frowning. "That's odd."_

_Kal'deris turned his attention from Kra'vyn's ship_

_"What is it?" He asked._

_"This can't be right." The officer stammered. "It's Kra'vyn's life signs and they're... dropping?"_

_The ship's landing ramp hissed out steam in jets getting everyone's attention and lowered. Ja'anya hopped up in Zel'tyr's arms to get a better look for her father._

_But the sight that met her eyes would scar her for life._

_Green blood slowly trickled down the ramp and a pair of bloodstained boots staggered into view. Kal'deris and Zel'tyr' paused from this sight. Ja'anya's father, then tumbled into view, rolling down and hitting the bottom of the ramp with a painful thump, provoking a strained groan from him._

_Zel'tyr gasped, Kal'deris and the deck officer cursed in shock and Ja'anya's eyes went wide. Onlookers reacted to the sight of one of their doctors in such a mauled state. One of the transporter crew even dropped the crate he was carrying with a loud smash of breaking glass._

_"Get the medics!" Kal'deris shouted to the dock officer before rushing to his friend who was painfully and determinedly crawling towards them._

_The dock officer immediately went to his comm unit on his pad and demanded a medic team to the hanger bay. One of the crew, the captain from the transport ship, shouted to one of his shipmates for a first aid kit._

_"Father?" Ja'anya squeaked, fright and confusion in her voice._

_"Ja'anya, be calm." Zel'tyr hushed._

_Kra'vyn was seriously wounded. His armor was torn to shreds and his flesh was slashed and gore soaked. Attempts on his own to stem the bleeding were seen from the multiple bandages and synthskin patches. But despite this, he was still losing blood. Something was causing him to continue to hemorrhage._

_Zel'tyr firmly held Ja'anya in her arms, struggling to keep her daughter in check. Ja'anya was struggling to get to her father._

_"Father?" Ja'anya cried._

_"Ja'anya, be still!" Zel'tyr ordered, controlling her emotions._

_Kal'deris skidded to his knees at his friends side who had rolled over onto his back and was now trying to get up._

_"Kra'vyn, stay still." Kal'deris urged, keeping him down. "Oh gods, look at you."_

_Kra'vyn was having trouble breathing and upon closer inspection of Kra'vyn's wounds, made difficult by the amount of blood on him, it was shown that both his lungs had been punctured._

_"What did this to you?" Kal'deris muttered, trying to stem the bleeding with his hands._

_Kra'vyn took deep painful breaths, trying to get as much air into his ruptured lungs as possible._

_"Ambush..." He wheezed. "Khiande Amed... lured right to..."_

_"Don't speak, save your strength." Kal'deris urged._

_Kal'deris tore his cloak off, tore it into small bundles and pressed them hard onto the open wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He knew that it was disrespectful towards the weavers and artisans who made it but this was an emergency and it could be made again. Despite his efforts in plugging the wounds, blood was continuing to seep through the cloth and his fingers. He pulled his hands back, covered in his friend's blood._

_Kra'vyn's blood wasn't clotting._

_"I can't stop the bleeding." Kal'deris said._

_Kra'vyn coughed hard._

_"Toxin in my blood... preventing healing..." He explained "Illegal..."_

_"What?" Kal'deris asked._

_"Against the hunters code!"_

_Kra'vyn retched hard, coughing up a torrent of blood and choking as it spurted out. Kal'deris cradled his head to the side, letting the blood drain from Kra'vyn's mouth. At this point, one of the crew from the transport skidded over with a med pack._

_Ja'anya struggled even harder in Zel'tyr's arms at the sight of her father in such pain._

_Kra'vyn reached for his belt and held out a small medical container to Kal'deris. His mission's purpose._

_"The sap..." He said, forcing it into Kal'deris's hands. "Take it..."_

_Zel'tyr at this point lost her grip on Ja'anya and her daughter landed with a thud onto the deck. Ja'anya scrambled over to her father as Zel'tyr gave chase. Ja'anya knelt down by her father's head as the crewman injected an adrenaline shot before trying to seal Kra'vyn's wounds with a plasma cauterizing unit._

_"Father?" She cried._

_Kra'vyn turned his now glazing amber eyes up to Ja'anya and he smiled, not bringing himself to flinch as he felt the plasma beam burn into his flesh. Zel'tyr arrived knelt by him taking Ja'anya into her arms. Kra'vyn clicked his mandibles in defeat._

_"I'm sorry you...had to see me like... this." Kra'vyn said sadly._

_"Kra'vyn, don't say that!" Zel'tyr scolded._

_Kra'vyn chuckled before weakly trying to lift his hand to Zel'tyr and Ja'anya reached for it. Zel'tyr clasped her mate's hand over Ja'anya._

_"Zel, you haven't... changed a bit." Kra'vyn smiled._

_Zel'tyr was inwardly hoping that Kra'vyn would see, even smell that she was carrying his pup. But the stench of his blood was overpowering everything and crouched down like she was, her pregnant belly was obscured. And the fact that his vision was getting weaker meant that he could possibly have no inclination that she was pregnant._

_His eyes were starting to get heavy and he was having trouble keeping them open. Kal'deris reacted immediately, knowing full well what would happen if Kra'vyn lost consciousness._

_"Kra'vyn, stay awake!" Kal'deris ordered, shaking his friend before turning to the crew medic. "How bad is it?"_

_The crewman refrained from shaking his head in negativity, but his news was just as grim._

_"He's been run right through in multiple places." The crewman bluntly said, shaking his head and still working hard. "I can't seal the wounds effectively."_

_Kal'deris looked up to the deck officer._

_"Where are the medics!" He demanded angrily._

_The officer acknowledged his question and checked his pad._

_"Coming up for the bays now." He answered._

_Kra'vyn, already knowing full well that he was long past recovery, concentrated with the last vestiges of his strength to see his family one last time. To say his goodbyes._

_"Kal." Kra'vyn called in a pained whisper._

_Kal'deris turned back to his dying friend_

_"Kal, you were the... brother I never had." Kra'vyn professed. "Take... care of them for me."_

_"Kra'vyn, hold on!" Kal'deris pleaded._

_Kra'vyn looked up to his mate and just managed to clasp his hand around hers and squeezed._

_"Zel, the ancestors... smiled on us when we met." He whispered. "I'll always watch... over you all."_

_Then was the most painful part, saying goodbye to his daughter. He could see the tears streaming from her eyes._

_"Ja'anya... be strong..." He sighed._

_With that, the last of his strength left him and Kra'vyn's head and hand dropped. He sighed as he lost consciousness and his chest sank._

_"Father?" Ja'anya croaked, shaking his hand. "Father?"_

_"Kal?" Zel'tyr asked, struggling to keep her composure._

_Kal'deris lowered his head onto Kra'vyn's chest to hear for a heartbeat. His mandibles drooped when he realized what happened._

_"His pulse is almost gone." He said with dread in his voice. "He's lost too much blood."_

_Footsteps were heard racing towards them as a medical team rushed over with a stretcher. The crewman backed off as the medics quickly and carefully placed Kra'vyn onto the stretcher and attempted to stabilize him. Regen serum was administered intravenously, a respirator was placed on his mouth and he was hooked up to several blood packs to hopefully retain what blood was left in him. His wounds were then quickly cauterized or plugged as he was lifted up._

_"About time!" Kal'deris ranted, his emotions spilling into his voice. "Get him to the med bay, now!"_

_The medics then rushed on, carefully not to knock Kra'vyn around and agitate more bleeding. His blood dripped from the stretcher slowly, leaving a glowing trail behind them as he was carried to the transit tram._

_Kal'deris wiped his hands thoroughly on what was left of his cloak, tossing the bloodied cloth away, and watching his friend being hauled off. Zel'tyr was comforting Ja'anya in her arms, who had her head buried in her mother's shoulder and sobbing quietly._

_"Shh. It's alright." Zel'tyr whispered._

_A squad of five arbitrators arrived. They lined up in front of Kal'deris and bowed to him._

_"Arbitrator investigators, reporting, Elder." The lead arbitrator greeted._

_"I want every corner of Kra'vyn's ship checked thoroughly." Kal'deris commanded. "I want to know exactly what happened in there."_

_The arbitrators voiced their acknowledgment and paced up the landing ramp, reaching for their masks and wrist-comps. Kal'deris hoped they could find some clue as to how Kra'vyn had got into this mess._

_He turned back to Zel'tyr and her daughter._

_"Come on." Kal'deris said, gathering Zel'tyr and Ja'anya to him as he walked. "There's nothing else we can do here."_

_He held them close and Zel'tyr rested her head on his shoulder for comfort. Ja'anya hugged close to him as well. He closed his arms around them_

_"How could this have happened?" Zel'tyr whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek._

_"I don't know." Kal'deris replied. "We can only pray that the gods will help him."_

_They then left the blood drenched hanger bay, hoping that the gods and the ancestors would help Kra'vyn pull through._

* * *

><p>Despite the medical caste's best efforts and spending many blood packs to buy time, Kra'vyn regrettably died through loss of blood from his wounds. No matter what procedure his fellow doctors and healers could think of, nothing could stop the hemorrhaging. And despite trying to find the cause, they could find nothing. There was no trace of what ever toxin Kra'vyn said was coursing in his blood.<p>

The Arbitrators conducted an investigation, detailing his travels from Lai'kairis to the planet and back but could find not a single shred of evidence on that world or on Kra'vyn's ship. The only thing that they concluded was that Kra'vyn was indeed ambushed by xenomorphs, escaped and then slowly bled to death on the way back home. But the exact cause of this incident was never discovered and had remained a mystery ever since.

The loss of one of their finest doctors was a blow to all of Lai'kairis but there was a silver lining. The sap he collected proved to be instrumental in devising a vaccine against a plague of influenza in the east sector. Within days, the plague had died out with only a minimal loss of life. In fact, the new vaccine was effective against most known diseases. Having been successfully synthesized, this vaccine became one of Lai'kairis' best exports and was immediately dubbed the Kra'vyn Vaccine in honor of his memory.

Saved by Kra'vyn, one last time.

Zel'tyr was distraught by her life-mate's sudden death. She never got to tell him about their second child. Despite offers and gifts from potential suitors, she never chose another mate. Kal'deris was depressed by his old friend's death and subsequently didn't take office for a few days, though he presided over Kra'vyn's funeral. Both we're able to eventually overcome the grief but the same couldn't be said for Ja'anya.

Ja'anya, the poor soul, suffered from nightmares ever since that day and was often awake at night crying her eyes out. Zel'tyr took it upon herself to train her daughter in her meditative ways to ease the trauma, as she herself had done. These helped but the dreams returned every now and then.

Months later, Zel'tyr gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him Kra'vyx, a variation of her mate's name with whom he shared his father's eyes and markings. Kal'deris then decided, at Zel'tyr's approval, to become Ja'anya's and Kra'vyx's guardian and became the father figure to them throughout their childhood.

Even though they returned to a normal semblance of life, the wounds were still deep.

* * *

><p>Remembering that day, coupled with Alaric's disappearance, was enough for Ja'anya to break down.<p>

Tears started to trickle down her cheeks and soaked into her pillow. She curled up, clutching the shieldhawk and Alaric's pillow to her chest, where her heart was. She buried her face into his pillow muffling her sobs.

"Alaric..." She sobbed softly. "Please return, alive."


	19. Interlude: School Days

To all my devoted fans.

sorry about the long wait but you know have something new to read. this isn't continuing Slayers Vengeance but is a little sidestory about Alaric. you may remember about him being something of a loner as school, well, this is the account of his first ever day at a civilian school.

This has character development, universe background and, lets not forget, lots of action as Alaric tries to cope with the prospect of going to school and dealing with problems as they come. Even if the problem that arises is an old one.

(the timeline, if anyone is wondering, that i follow is a mix of all the major events of the Aliens and Predators universes, the movies, comics and video games.)

I will be adding the final part to this little peice at a later date and i may possibly do a peiece about Ja'anya's childhood after her father's death. who else here wants to rad about that?

but enough of me blabbing, READ AWAY!

* * *

><p>The classroom was abuzz with activity… non-learning that is. The teenage students were messing around, gossiping about the latest fads, or trying to study in the chaos. It was the beginning of a new year and old students had graduated and new students had enrolled in this recently recovered institute.<p>

It had been several decades since the Xenomorph Infestation of Earth and the titanic struggle to eradicate the bugs from the human homeworld. Much of the planet was still in a state of ruin and most of the environment, already frail from the expansive industry and population boom of the 20th and 21st century, was hived and assimilated and much of the Earth's population was dead. However, most of the major nations and corporations, including the infamous Weyland Yutani Corp, had survived the horrific war and formed a new global government, The United Earth Federation. Efforts to cleanse the world have since been met with good results with most of the major continents purged of all bugs but the Earth was still a long way from complete restoration.

And, as for the ones responsible for that nightmare? Suffice to say, they were now branded traitors to their own race.

The students were a mixture of all groups on Earth, being of different religions, social and ethnic groups. The xenomorphs taught the necessity of putting grievances aside and working together to survive, although there are some who still cling onto old hatreds. And such things are not tolerated if it leads to disruption of the fragile peace by law. The factions, who refused to band together, be it religious, racial or political, were wiped out by the xenomorphs.

The door opened and the students quickly rushed to their seats as the teacher, a smartly dressed and rather tall, middle thirties woman, walked in with a folder in her arm.

"Settle down. Settle down." She called out.

The teacher walked up to the front desk, the holographic projector showing her name upon entering, Ms Verlyse, and turned to the class. Some of the students were still mucking about. A sharp quick shoe heel to the desk that made the holographics flicker, brought their attention.

"Welcome back to Pennsylvania high." She greeted. "I trust all of you had a good winter break?"

A combination of 'meh', 'ditto' and various indistinguishable words of neutrality sounded. Sounded like winter break was a mixed bag, considering the state the Earth was in. In some places, the snow made the ruins even worse.

"Well, I'm sure that the holidays are getting gradually better in the coming years." She added. "Now, before we start the class, I have something to tell you all." She continued, sitting on her desk. "We're going to be having a new student with us this year."

The students spoke up at this news.

"Who?" asked one of the girl students, whose dark makeup marked her out as a Goth, asked. "What are they like?"

"Well, I haven't been informed much about him." She answered, looking into the folder she was carrying. "I only just got this file today. But, what I know is that he hasn't been to school before, exactly."

"Is he a home schooled kid?" another student, a boy in miner's clothing asked.

"No, he wasn't homeschooled as such. Mind you, with his background, 'Homeschooled' is stretching it a bit."

A sharp series of knocks was heard from the door.

"Ah, that must be him now." Verlyse said. "Come on in, Alaric."

"Alaric?" a student, who looked more akin to a 1920's gangster, said with oddity. "What a weird name."

A couple of the students snickered at that.

The door opened and the mystery student was revealed to the class.

Alaric stepped through the door and the class looked at him as he entered. For a thirteen year old, Alaric was well developed, coming in at 5ft 6. His body and muscles were honed and he had a conditioned, strong constitution. His long, sweptback, jet black hair came down past his shoulders, forming a mane of spikes. He was dressed in practical military clothing, consisting of full urban configuration camouflaged marine fatigues with short sleeves that showed off his biceps, fingerless gloves and reinforced combat boots. He also wore a utility pattern flak vest with pockets lining the front and a set of dog tags around his neck. His large, solid, and unusually bulky marine issue backpack was slung over one shoulder.

The one thing that really caught the student's attention was his dark, ruby red eyes. This added to his already stern features as he shut the door behind him. Some of the students murmured to each other. They were getting the impression that Alaric wasn't one to be casually messed with.

"You shouldn't have said he had a weird name" a student whispered to the previous one, who was now loosening his collar nervously.

Alaric heard that but he didn't pay it any heed. He didn't let insults get to him unless they got really personal. And it was never wise push Alaric that far.

"Alaric, come up to the front of the class, please." Verlyse ordered.

Alaric walked up to the front down the central aisle of the class, his boots thumping heavily on the floor. Some of the girl students began whispering to each other when they saw his physique up close, and admiration was already prevalent. Alaric walked up to the teacher and turned to the class.

"This is Alaric. He will be joining us this year to complete his education." Verlyse said, before looking down at Alaric. "Would you like to tell us a bit about yourself, Alaric?" She asked.

Alaric surveyed the class, getting a good layout of the students with his ruby eyes.

"My name is Alaric Ce'tarn." Alaric said, curtly and to the point. "I'm thirteen. And, I am a member of the Colonial Marines and British SAS."

The students murmured as they heard Alaric talk about himself. Alaric was in the marines at his age? They knew that legally, you couldn't join the armed forces until your eighteenth year or at least join the cadets at fifteen.

Weren't child soldiers illegal?

That was when they thought that Alaric was just messing with them.

"Oh, yeah… pull the other one." A student said, not believing Alaric's introduction.

Verlyse then showed the class an official document, detailing Alaric as a full member of the Corps and the agreement for his educational transfer to a civilian school.

"Alaric here has received his primary education in the armed forces, his wards, and has been… well… persuaded to start his secondary education, in a civilian setting. Our school has been chosen to enroll him" Verlyse stated, clarifying Alaric's background and putting the document back into the folder. "Alaric has never been with other children much, so don't be to put off by him or his mannerisms. Now I'm sure that we'll all do our best to make sure he fits right in. Just make sure that you don't do anything to antagonize or upset him." She looked to Alaric. "Alaric, take a seat anywhere you want."

Alaric's ruby eyes looked around the class, seeing some of the girl students clear space so that Alaric could sit next to them. Alaric, much to their disappointment, moved to a corner in the back that wasn't in use, or near any of the other students, and dumped his bag on the table with a notable thud before sitting down next to it. He instinctively sat up straight and waited patiently for the teacher to continue.

Some students sneaked a look at the Marine Corps emblem on his vest's back and the two chevrons on his both sleeves, adding more proof to his claims.

"Right. Well, let's begin the class by solving some simple equations." The teacher said turning to the holographic board behind her and activating it. "These shouldn't be that hard."

The students went about getting their exercise books as the teacher wrote out some simple problems that gradually became more difficult. Alaric had his books out before anyone else did, having planned his bag's contents thoroughly before hand. He reached into a vest pocket and pulled out an antiquated fountain pen.

Alaric had a preference for simple, nostalgic, but practical objects and he liked seeing the ink flow onto the paper. Some of the students looked at it with surprise and curiosity. Most people had never seen items from the past before and in this day and age, such things were incredibly hard to acquire in a functional state.

When the teacher wrote out twenty such equations, she told the class to proceed while she went through Alaric's file. The students then started either working in silence, messing around or trying to cheat off one another. Alaric didn't make any noise as he silently worked.

It wasn't long after the class started that Alaric had finished all of the questions and just sat there, waiting patiently and flicking through a book on ancient warfare he'd brought, flicking through the Persian-Greek wars while waiting for the next part of the class to begin.

* * *

><p>It was lunchtime and Alaric was sitting by himself on a bench outside, under one of the large pine trees growing on the outskirts of the school. Much of the surroundings were redeveloped to what they were before the infestation but the scars of the horrific time were still there. Abandoned buildings of old Pennsylvania, bearing remnants of xenomorph hives were still standing in the distance as a reminder and in centre of the park there was a memorial, a statue of marines battling the xenomorphs, dedicated to those who had lost their lives in the defense of the human homeworld.<p>

Alaric was busy munching on a ration bar from his pack with one hand, a canteen of water in the other hand and just staring into space. He didn't pay attention to the other children who were playing sports in the fields or just making up games on the spot.  
>None of these things really interested him, unless it was beneficial towards improving his combat skills. Plus, there was the fact that he could often get rougher then he intended. He was offered a place in a game of rugby that was going on but he declined.<p>

He would have mowed down, and sidelined half the opposing team before half time even sounded.

Before he had been dropped off, he had been instructed to not use his training unless in self defense. Alaric sort of agreed to this because he knew that school kids and the other civilians wouldn't be much of a threat. But then, he was not one to be lulled into a sense of security and be caught off guard should things go to hell in a hurry.

He bit into his bar before reaching for his canteen and taking a swig of water. He then looked to his bag that was resting under the bench. He had been constantly keeping an eye on his pack ever since he was dropped off at the school.

So far, civilian school wasn't living up to his expectations. All he had so far was math and English, which he already understood at a higher level than that being taught here. He wanted to do more of the practical subjects like metalworking or carpentry, something that involved all of his body and not just the mind.

A mind cannot live without a body and a body cannot live without a mind, as Mikeal once said.

Alaric then quickly blotted out the memory of his seventh year. He still didn't want to relive that most painful day when his foster family was brutally slaughtered by Yautja hunters. It was just over six years since that incident but to Alaric with his perfect memory, it seemed like it happened yesterday.

He reached out to a pouch on his belt and pulled out an old photograph. On it was his foster family, his father's own marine squad by a Marine Corps dropship with Alaric's father in the middle. He looked at each one with a hint of sadness in his eyes before he put the photo back in its pouch.

'_I'll find you one day Dad,'_ he thought. _'Dead or alive, I will find you.'_

It was then that Alaric heard steps coming towards him but made no sign of noticing. A shadow loomed over him and a pair of shoes came into view before he looked up.

It was a scrawny kid, with short scruffy hair and a nervous expression, from his class. He was dressed in a combination of worn utilitarian dungarees, shirt, and a synthetic fabric jacket. He had a rucksack in one hand and his lunchbox in the other.

There was something about him which told Alaric that this kid was at the bottom of the school's social ladder.

"Excuse me." He nervously asked. "Mind if I sit here?"

Alaric looked at the boy for a moment before cocking his head in acknowledgement. The kid then sat down next to him, somewhat hesitantly, and opened his lunchbox. Alaric in the meantime shuffled away from the boy, who interpreted the move as a negative reaction from his presence.

"What? Did I offend you just sitting down?" the boy asked, hurt at Alaric's response.

Alaric turned to him, his red eyes showing that he wasn't looking for friends nor did he want to offend anyone.

"I don't get close to people." Alaric explained before turning his head. "It's nothing personal."

He then finished his ration bar, putting the wrapper in his pocket before heaving his bag up.

'_Everyone I get close to ends up dead,'_ he thought sadly.

"My name is Devon." The boy introduced, intending to make conversation.

Alaric mumbled in acknowledgement, rummaging in his bag for another bar. Devon shut his lunchbox when he brought up a question that he had in his head when Alaric introduced himself to the class.

"If you don't mind me asking, what kind of name is Alaric?" Devon asked.

Alaric looked to him.

"It's the name I was born with." Alaric stated, rummaging some more before pulling a bar out. "I get that a lot, people wondering about my name."

He saw that Devon had his eyes to the ground in anxiety. It looked like he was expecting Alaric to beat him up for implying that his name was funny sounding. Alaric then cleared the air between them.

"Don't be so nervous. I'm not going to maul you to death, so don't worry about it." Alaric assured. "I don't tend fight people weaker than me."

But Alaric would soon meet some people who would.

At that point, a stone went flying through the air and hit Devon in the head with a sharp thud. He yelped and clutched his head, his lunchbox clattering to the ground. Alaric saw that blood was instantly starting to run from between Devon's fingers, looked at the stone in question and saw that it had been deliberately sharpened.

He then heard a mass of footsteps and looked up.

Three older boys, in a grade one or two levels higher, in sports clothing came walking up in a dignified manner. Alaric noticed that Devon was squirming nervously as they approached. These three easily towered over both Alaric and Devon.

"Hey Devon!" the boy in the middle shouted. "It's collection time."

This boy looked as pompous as he was confidant with his short blond hair and smug grin. No doubt he was the leader and the other two were his cronies. They stopped short of Devon, enough to make him back into the tree scared. They didn't pay any attention to Alaric, only giving him a nasty leer as a warning to stay out of their way.

Alaric wasn't intimidated in the slightest.

"Leave me alone, Eric!" Devon protested. "You already took my lunch money!"

Eric loomed over him.

"We decided to charge interest for the holidays." Eric stated, stepping forward and grabbing Devon by the collar. "Starting, now."

Eric lifted Devon up until he was just barely on his toes. Alaric looked on with anger and contempt brewing behind his eyes.

'_Earth is barely back on her feet and this prick cares about money?!'_ Alaric thought in disgust.

"What do you think you're doing?" Alaric demanded calmly.

Eric looked at Alaric with a nasty grimace on his face.

"Fuck off, Bitch!" Eric ordered. "We'll get to you later."

Alaric was taken aback by this casual act of dominance. Eric, for no reason at all, had called him a bitch. Except maybe to make himself feel tough and important.

'_Well,'_ Alaric thought. _'That's talk coming from someone who picks on people smaller then himself.'_

Eric then turned his attention back to Devon who was now trembling.

"Well?" he questioned, shaking Devon in his clutches. "Where's my money?"

"I haven't got any more!" Devon cried. "Leave me alone!"

Eric looked to his cronies with a smug grin.

"What do you say, shall we beat it out of him?" he asked, making himself sound imposing. "Give him a little incentive?"

He got several replies of encouragement.

Alaric, disgusted beyond his limit at this point, stepped in. He dropped his ration bar, stepped up as Eric was about to punch Devon and, with a mighty shove, he pushed Eric hard into the ground. Eric, taken completely by surprise, landed face first into the dirt as Devon landed on his feet, and Eric's cronies stopped their goading when they saw their leader face down in the dirt.

"Leave him alone." Alaric defiantly told the bully.

Eric spat dirt out of his mouth and reared up to Alaric. The new kid would dare to push him?!

"What?" He asked, annoyance lacing his voice. "What did you say to me?!"

"Leave him alone." Alaric ordered, more firmly this time. "Pick on someone your own size, coward."

Eric looked at Alaric for a moment, then to Devon who immediately scampered behind the tree. He resumed to his gaze to Alaric, who merely stood his ground with defiance in his eyes.

"Oh, I see what's going on." Eric said, getting up. "The new kid wants to be first." He dusted himself off. "Jacob, see to it."

Alaric rolled his eyes.

'_Great,'_ he thought. _'I'm surrounded by morons.'_

One of the other bullies, a lad with a sizable girth and a nasty leer on his round bulbous face, approached Alaric while Eric walked behind Alaric. No doubt this was Eric's 'heavyweight'. Alaric's eyes looked over the older boy, taking in every detail.

'_This is supposed to be threatening?'_ He thought in pure cynicism. _'He'd be lucky to run a full three miles without fainting in the first five hundred yards.'_

He shook his head.

"I won't fight you." He said.

Jacob put on a victorious pose with his fists on his hips like a superhero.

"Ha! All talk and no guts." Jacob mocked. "That's what it is, isn't it?"

Alaric simply shook his head.

"No." Alaric corrected "It's because you won't last one minute in a fight against me. And, let's face it; your girth is hardly suited for a fight."

He looked to the second bully, a lad who had a slight unmistakable resemblance to a Neanderthal with a prominent brow and large hands.  
>Likely all muscle and no brain.<p>

"And you wouldn't be able to think ahead in a fight." He added.

Unbeknownst to him, Eric had sneaked to Alaric's bag and was rummaging through it for anything of value to goad Alaric. It wasn't long until he picked one of the worst items to steal from Alaric.

"Oh, look at this." Eric said; pick pocketing something from Alaric's bag.

Alaric spun round and saw that Eric had in his grasp one of Alaric's most treasured items. The tome of his family's lineage. Alaric's eyes widened as Eric juggled the old leather bound book in his hand without caring if it got damaged.

"Look at this, the new kid is a book worm." Eric said before flicking it open. "What's in it, porn?"

His eyes immediately showed puzzlement when he saw the runes and illustrations. He flipped it around with disappointment and confusion in his eyes.

"What is this written in, Gibberish?" Eric questioned. "It's like retarded chickens scribbled in this."

Alaric was silently fuming at the breaking point at this disrespect towards his most precious belonging.

How dare they insult his ancestors?!

"Give me my tome back." Alaric demanded, rearing to the bully.

Eric now thought he had a way of provoking a reaction from Alaric and decided to rub it in a bit more to see what Alaric would do. Only the reaction he would get was far from what he wanted. He shut the book and grinned as he dangled it in front of Alaric's eyes.

"You want it? Try and..." Eric started.

Before he could finish his taunt, Alaric swiped a hand out and grabbed his tome before Eric even saw it coming. Alaric placed his treasured possession into a large pouch on his belt, shutting it securely.

'...Take it." Eric finished in surprise.

Alaric had all he could take from these bullies. Now, he was going to give them one final chance to walk away. While they could still walk, that is.

Alaric cracked his knuckles as a warning. His dog tags jingled and glinted as he flexed his arms and chest. He would not have this insolence any longer.

"You have five seconds to push off." Alaric demanded. "I suggest you take it while your mentally challenged brains tell you to."

Eric now had enough of being humiliated in front of his friends, first by that sudden push and now for this humiliating insult to his authority, and decided to put Alaric in his place. He ushered his goons to clear space while he reared himself at Alaric.

"You just had to make it harder on yourself." Eric said, cracking his knuckles. "Well, now you're gonna get it.

Eric swiped a fist at Alaric. Alaric deftly dodged it without even steeping out of place.

"One." Alaric counted, holding up a finger.

The bully swiped again and Alaric expertly blocked it, along with all the attempts that followed. And all the while, Alaric was casually counting to five.

"Hit him! Knock his lights out, Eric!" the other bullies goaded.

Devon watched from behind the tree as he saw Eric struggling to lay a finger on Alaric. Alaric looked like he was hardly even trying. Alaric even mockingly yawned to illustrate that this fight was hardly worth his time.

Alaric blocked Eric's rather shallow attempt at a nutshot. Alaric, in his head, was somewhat insulted and amused by the lack of discipline in these attacks. Clearly, Eric had never been in a real fight before.

"Three" Alaric said. "Tick. Tock. Seconds are wasting."

Eric tried to slap his hands into Alaric's ears but Alaric blocked the attempt before slapping Eric around the ears with a loud clap. Eric was slightly thrown off by the sudden counterattack. He panted as he continued to try and get at Alaric, indicating that he was getting tired, frustrated, and even more sloppy.

"Four." Alaric counted, with a tad more clarity. "Last chance."

Eric yelled in frustration before swiping another fist at Alaric. Alaric, somewhat mockingly, then pretended to get hit by the punch and did a fluid backwards flip before landing deftly on his feet. Eric and his goons were stunned by Alaric's sudden flair of acrobatics.

And that was about to cost them dearly.

"Five!" Alaric roared.

Alaric ducked the fist coming over him and delivered a powerful blow to the gut, knocking the wind out of the older boy's lungs. Eric bent over in pain, struggling for breath in ragged heaves and Alaric then bought an elbow to the back of the head, sending the bully face first into the dirt again.

Eric's cronies stopped rooting when they saw him hit the ground. He got up to his knees, spitting dirt from his mouth and taking in long but painful breaths as he cradled his stomach. Alaric turned to the other bullies.

"You think I'm just wearing this clothing for looks?" Alaric questioned them. "I am a Marine full and proper." He pointed at Eric, who had now got to his knees. "Now, I suggest you lot go away while you can still walk." He warned. "And take your piece of shit leader with you."

Eric, at this time, regained his composure and pulled from his pocket a penknife. He flicked it out and lunged at Alaric's turned back. Alaric, having heard the faint click from the knife, evaded the clumsy attack and caught Eric in an arm lock. Alaric then rolled, bringing Eric over his shoulder before he slammed the bully hard into the ground.

"Pathetic." Alaric spat in disgust. "Attacking me while my back was turned? How nobly brave!"

Alaric knelt up and gave Eric's arm a good hard tug. A loud crack was heard coming from every joint in Eric's arm. Eric let out a loud yelp as Alaric let go and the bully was left cradling his useless arm, his knife falling out of his limp fingers. Alaric got up, picked up the pen knife and then promptly threw over his shoulder where it impaled itself into the tree.

Devon's eyes went wide at this feat.

"My arm!" Eric screeched. "Look at my arm!"

"Be thankful it wasn't your neck." Alaric said, roughly grabbing Eric by the collar and shoving him away. "Now, for the last time… piss off!"

Eric rolled into the ground before looking to his friends. He resolved himself quite quickly in fear of losing his standing in the school. If it got out that he had his ass kicked by a new kid, he would never live it down.

"Don't just stand there, get him!" He ordered.

His friends dumped their bags, cracked their knuckles, and readied themselves for a fight.

"You're dead, you little runt!" Jacob said. "What do you think, Matt?"

"I'll grind him into pudding." Matt declared.

Alaric casually got into a fighting stance, crouching slightly with his left foot forward, left hand out and right hand close to his chest. It would seem that they would need more than a dislocated arm to discourage them.

"Come on then." Alaric offered. "Show me that you've got at least one pair between the three of you."

Jacob and Matt then charged at Alaric, who simply grinned.

Suffice to say, these two had even less skill in fighting then Eric. Alaric wasn't even so much as breaking a sweat. Alaric was seeing their moves way ahead of the time it took them to do them.

"Hit him!" Eric demanded. 'What are you doing, you idiots! Hit him!"

Alaric decided to toy with them as he effortlessly dodged each attack. He would even position himself so that when they attacked, he would dodge and they would end up hitting each other. This fight was starting to become a three stooges production from the way that the bullies were failing to harm Alaric.

"Missed." Alaric pointed out, ducking under Matt's swinging fist which resulted in Jacob copping a punch to the nose. "Not even close!"

Jacob then tried to body slam Alaric to the ground but Alaric deftly rolled out of the way and Jacob ended up slamming the ground. Matt lunged at Alaric, who deftly countered the charge with a well timed roll, his legs lashing out and tripping Matt who fell on Jacob and bounced off.

Devon quietly snickered at the sight.

Jacob got back up and lunged at Alaric again. And Alaric dodged the clumsy move again, delivering a jarring kick to his knee. Jacob limped a few paces and grunted in pain as he gingerly rubbed his knee.

Suddenly, Alaric was grabbed from behind by Matt into a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides.

"I got you now!" Matt cackled.

Alaric, mockingly, feigned trying to escape.

Jacob reached for his baseball bat from his bag. Eric was still cradling his arm, fashioning a makeshift sling with his jacket as he stood up, his confidence and smug look back now that Alaric was under control.

Eric came walking up with his smug grin back on his face. He clenched his good fist in anticipation at beating Alaric to a pulp. He leered at Devon, who had now hid further behind the tree with only his eyes peeping out.

Alaric cocked his head in mock fright.

"Any last words before I pummel you back into diapers?" Eric asked in a malevolent tone.

Alaric grinned.

"To you I bequeath… a boot to the head." Alaric said cryptically.

Before Eric could even think about what the phrase meant, Alaric then literally showed him the meaning. Alaric lashed out with both feet and kicked Eric dead centre in the face. A loud crack and crunch came from Eric's face and he was sent flying backwards and landed on his back. He immediately clasped his face with his good hand which already had blood streaming from his nose and he was grunting and, embarrassingly, squeaking in absolute and barely contained pain.

Jacob and Matt went momentarily slack jawed from that feat. Devon meanwhile cringed when he heard the bones in Eric's face crack.

"Old comedies." Alaric said reverently. "You just can't beat the humor in them."

Eric heaved himself up, only one eye open because of the intense pain pulsing in his head. He looked like he was about to become emotionally shattered.

"Show him what happens when you fuck with us!" Eric shouted, nearly on the verge of tears.

"With pleasure." Jacob agreed, hefting his bat.

Alaric knew what to do in this situation.

Alaric, with minimal effort, freed his arms and drove both elbows into Matt's gut, making the bully lose his grip with a retch, and ducked as the bat went whizzing over his head. The aluminum bat smacked Matt right in the ribcage with a loud crack and he fell to the ground yelling in pain.

Alaric then lunged, grabbed the bat and fluidly twisted it out of Jacob's grasp before the bully could recover. Before Jacob had any time to think, Alaric deftly clubbed him around the head with it, not hard enough to hurt but enough to throw him off balance, cradling his head.

Alaric held the bat in his hands and he promptly bent it into a right angle over his knee with loud crumple of metal. This made everyone's mouth gape.

"Bringing a weapon into a fist fight?" Alaric said with disgust, tossing the useless scrap of metal to the side. "Pathetic."

Jacob snapped out of his stupor and charged at Alaric with a yell. Alaric deftly counterattacked, evading the clumsy attempt and sticking a leg out. Jacob tripped as a result and faceplanted into the ground with a notable bounce. He got up, rubbing his bruised face and lunged at Alaric again.

What Alaric said about girth not being suited to a fight was true. Jacob was just too imbalanced to fight Alaric, who was exploiting this fact to perfection.

Alaric tackled Jacob to the ground, using the older boy's more considerable weight against him. Alaric quickly rolled to his feet as Jacob lashed an arm after him. Alaric grabbed the limb and then rolled to the ground catching the bully into an arm and head lock with both arms and squeezed.

Jacob started to choke, gasping and spluttering for breath as he felt his airway fold in on itself. He flailed around trying to get Alaric off but Alaric wasn't budging an inch. Jacob's eyes started to roll to the back of his head and he was starting to go purple from lack of oxygen.

"I can snap your neck like a twig should I choose to." Alaric warned before releasing Jacob's neck. "Remember that."

Alaric tugged hard on Jacob's arm, forcing him into submission. It only after Jacob started yelping, after holding out stubbornly for a few moments, that Alaric let go. Alaric got up and that was when Jacob tried to tackle him from behind again. Alaric hopped out of the way and then promptly delivered a hard pile driving kick right in his side. Jacob yelled out as he clutched his side, likely nursing a bruised kidney before falling to the ground in pain.

Matt, who got back up after getting air back in his lungs, saw that Alaric had his back turned to him, still focusing on Jacob. He took his chance and charged at Alaric.  
>Alaric turned when he heard the pounding footsteps.<p>

Matt punched Alaric right in the jaw with a loud crack that knocked Alaric's head to the side. Now, Matt was expecting to have decked Alaric with a punch that hard but Alaric was still standing. Alaric turned to Matt, blood trickling down his lip.

Jacob and Eric couldn't believe what they saw. No one in the school could stand after being hit like that.

"How did you..." Matt asked, not believing that Alaric was still standing. "What the hell are you?!"

Alaric then rolled his eyes in exasperation. That punch hardly did any damage, he wasn't even slightly dazed.

"That's _not_ how you deck someone." Alaric said, condescendingly.

Before Matt had time to even react, Alaric delivered a crippling roundhouse kick to Matt's face with a loud crack. The kick had enough force behind it to send Matt flipping head over heels before landing face down into the dirt.

"_That's_ how you deck someone." Alaric finished. "And, to answer your question, I am a Spartan."

Matt feebly crawled off, nursing a swollen, bleeding and possibly cracked jaw, and picking himself up as Jacob and Eric hobbled after him, regrouping. Alaric stood off against them, daring them to strike first.

This fight had been one sided since it began and the advantage wasn't to the bullies. They may have had numbers but Alaric was a far better fighter then all three of them combined. They had taken a lot more damage; having sprained limbs, bruised faces, black eyes and grazes all over them. Alaric in the meantime only had a cut lip and his clothing was slightly scuffed from rolling on the ground.

Alaric took a step towards them and the three of them feverishly stepped back. Alaric then semi lunged at them with a playful roar, causing them to stumble back. That was all it took. The three bullies finally did the first smart thing in this fight. They fled, tripping over their own feet, trying to get as far from Alaric as they could. Alaric lowered his stance, brushing himself off.

"Get away from us, you freak!" Eric screamed.

"Cowards!" Alaric called after in disgust. "Not so tough when someone fights back, are you?!"

Alaric wiped the blood that trickled from his lip as he watched them flee and, from the way they were hobbling, doing their best trying not to show tears to bystanders who watched with puzzlement. He saw Matt stumble over a few times, calling for his 'friends' not to leave him behind.

"They just had to keep pushing." Alaric uttered to himself as he sat back down on the bench and reached for his canteen. "They can dish it but they can't take it."

He gulped down some water before he splashed the rest onto his face and scrubbed his face. The liquid dripped of his face and trickled to the dirt below.

"That was amazing!" Devon praised, coming out from his hiding place.

Alaric sat down on the bench and looked up to him.

"That wasn't even a workout." Alaric stated. "Those three are the worst fighters I've seen yet."

"They ganged up on you and you just threw them away like they were nothing." Devon added sitting down next to him. "Where did you learn stuff like that? Do you think you could teach me?"

Alaric brushed some dirt off his fatigues.

"Not really. Needless to say, you gotta learn this stuff young." Alaric answered. "And when I say young, I mean _really_ young."

Devon was taken aback that answer but he quickly came up with another question he wanted answered.

"Weren't you even scared?" Devon asked.

Alaric scoffed at the accusation.

"Scared?" Alaric questioned. "I've seen things that would make a veteran soldier cringe."

He then addressed Devon like a teacher would to a student.

"My father had a saying: Those who prey on the weak are weak themselves." Alaric told him. "They become soft and complacent, expecting everything to go their way." He picked up a twig that was lying near his feet. "The trick is not let them roll over you and give them what they want. And when they do, like a parasite, they'll keep coming back for more." He then started to bend the twig and it flexed in his grip. "Sooner or later, you gotta purge them." He then snapped the twig with a loud crack and then tossed the pieces away. "I don't think they'll be bullying you anytime soon."

Alaric then noticed that Devon's hair was starting to drip blood. The stone must have cut a vein and his hair was acting like a sponge. Devon didn't notice it until Alaric mentioned it. He held a hand to his head and felt the cut in his head with a twinge. He then saw his fingers were smeared in red.

"You're bleeding." Alaric said. "Come here."

Alaric reached into his bag and pulled out a first aid kit. He had packed this in case of an emergency and he had been right in his judgment. He motioned Devon to sit in front of him and Alaric went about patching his head up.

"Stay still." Alaric said, grabbing an antiseptic swab and wiping Devon's head clean for a better look. "The cut is deep. I'll have to suture it."

Devon flinched as he felt the stinging jab to his nerves.

"Pain is temporary, Glory is forever." Alaric said, stopping when he cleaned up as best he could.

Alaric reached to the kit and pulled out anesthetic gel, a needle, and thread.

"You carry a lot of stuff." Devon said, raising a hand to rub his head. "I don't think I've seen anyone carrying a first aid kit.'

"Don't touch." Alaric ordered, grabbing and lowering Devon's hand down.

Alaric threaded the needle, unwound the thread and Devon fidgeted nervously.

"I don't like needles." He objected.

Alaric then frowned at Devon.

"Devon, I'm not going to hurt you. I've had lots of practice." Alaric assured, rubbing the gel into his cut. "Now, hold still."

Alaric then deftly and thoroughly sutured Devon's head. Devon cringed as he felt the needle tug and go through his scalp, the gel numbing most of the pain. All the while, Alaric was reassuring him. After five minutes, the cut was sealed; Alaric then disposed of the needle and remaining thread and wrapped a bandage around the boy's head to keep the sutures from harm.

"There." Alaric said, tying the bandage off and wiping his bloodied hands on a cleansing wipe. "Try not to touch it and it'll heal in two or three days."

Alaric then reached down and picked up Devon's lunchbox and handed it to him. Alaric then reached into his bag and picked up his ration bar.

"God, I'm hungry." Devon muttered to himself.

"Now, where were we?" Alaric questioned trivially, acting like the skirmish between Eric and his goons never happened.

But before he could even open the wrapper, he heard more footsteps come towards him. He muttered as he thought those three bullies had come back with more goons by their side. Not that it would matter because he would just level them into the ground too. He looked up and saw that it wasn't them.

A teacher, a man in his early thirties and in mechanics overalls, came walking up to Alaric. Alaric lowered his ration bar when the teacher arrived.

"Alaric. You're to go straight to the principal's office, now." The teacher ordered.

"What for?" Alaric asked.

"Physical conflict with other students."

Alaric now knew what this was about. Those three bullies must have ratted out on him, saying what he did to them with possible over exaggeration and crocodile tears thrown in for added sympathy. This was going to do nothing for Alaric's take on the incident.

"That?" Alaric asked, not concerned about what they might have been saying. "Well, those bullies deserved everything they got."

The teacher was shocked by the casualness of Alaric's answer.

"What they deserved?" the teacher questioned. "Those three had injuries that you would only get in a UFC fight!"

He then saw the bandage that Devon had wrapped around his head.

"Did you attack him as well?" the teacher demanded.

"Eric threw a stone at me and hit me with it." Devon answered in Alaric's defense. "It cut my head bad and Alaric helped me."

The teacher resumed his attention to Alaric.

"Alaric, you are under detention until this matter is resolved." He said.

Alaric was incensed by this order. He was being punished for defending himself against bullies.

"I haven't done anything wrong! They attacked me and I defended myself!" Alaric stated.

The teacher was not interested in his plea.

"Alaric, you are going to the principal's office, right now." He ordered, more forcefully this time.

Alaric, deciding not to get into more trouble then necessary and seeing that he had little say in the matter, muttered in his family's tongue; which sounded like a combination of ancient Greek and something else that couldn't be identified. He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked off with the teacher following behind.

Devon remained seated as he watched Alaric being ushered away. Other students were watching him as he walked past and talked about what they thought was going to happen to Alaric. Would he be expelled for this?

Devon looked down at his lunchbox. He flicked it open, seeing his knocked about lunch inside before he had a second thought.

"I'm not that hungry anymore." He muttered, closing his lunchbox and wondering what would happen to Alaric.

Alaric wasn't aware of it, but Devon now considered him to be a friend.

* * *

><p>Alaric sat cross legged and arms crossed on a bench outside the principal's office. His bag was laying next to him as he muttered angrily to himself in his family's tongue. He didn't pay any mind to other students or teachers passing by. Some students snickered at his predicament but Alaric ignored them.<p>

This wasn't fair. He was just trying to stay out of trouble but trouble always seemed to find him, one way or another. And now he was being punished for defending himself.  
>He preferred the military's way of doing things. Getting right down to the source of the problem and dealing with it, not going through so many regulations and loopholes as in the civilian sector that criminals can get off with a lighter sentence, only to commit more crimes as soon as the sentence was done.<p>

The door opened and the principal leaned out. The principal was a portly man, bearded and in his fifties. His neatly worn suit was embellished with a six pointed star badge on his lapel, signifying that he was Jewish and he had the kippah cap on his head for further clarification.

"Alaric, come in." He ordered.

Alaric got up, picked up his bag and walked into the office. The principal shut the door behind him. The office was what you would expect in a principal's office. There were bookshelves full of folders and books. Filing cabinets were behind his desk and his desk was made of Terran Oak, a rarity these days, with personal affects and a computer system was integrated into it. A mixture of organic and mechanical. The principal's name was projected via holographic as Mr. Arnold Klein.

Alaric also saw that his file was already open on the desk. No doubt the principal had been going through it while Alaric was outside.

"Sit down." Klein told Alaric.

Alaric sat down in the chair that was facing the principal's desk, dumping his bag next to it. Klein moved around the desk and sat down in his seat which creaked under his weight. He then flicked though Alaric's file as Alaric waited. Klein muttered to himself as he saw Alaric's list of combat specialties, medical details, and psychological analysis.

"I had severe reservations about this proposal and they've just been proven." Klein said.

He looked to Alaric as he shut the file.

"This is something that I had hoped wouldn't happen." He said. "First day here and you've already caused trouble." He then tapped his finger on the desk in thought. "I was hoping there wouldn't be any problems for a week at least."

He paused, waiting for Alaric to answer. All he got was a silent stare, as Alaric was waiting for the principal to continue. Klein coughed curtly before he continued.

"From what I have been told, you picked a fight with students older than you are and beat them to a pulp." Klein added. "And not just beat them up, you basically mutilated them. Eric will be lucky if he retains his sense of smell or can even use his arm fully after this."

Rubbish, Alaric thought with contempt. Those bullies are exaggerating their injuries for attention.

"Have you anything to say about that in your defense?" Klein asked.

"They deserved it." Alaric bluntly answered.

Klein was taken by Alaric's answer.

"They 'deserved' it?"

Alaric straightened himself as he gave his view on the incident.

"They were the antagonists who started the whole fight, and drew first blood with a rock to Devon's head and I stepped to his defense." Alaric stated. "They then decided to gang up on me and I defended myself after warning them to leave several times. And it's not my fault that they chose the wrong target. Besides, I've had much worse injuries than that. A dislocated arm and a broken nose is nothing."

Klein looked in Alaric's folder again, flicking to a relevant page.

"Ah, yes." He said, pointing a finger at the relevant paragraph. "You managed to fracture both your legs during a training exercise, and continued regardless of it. Literally 'breaking' the pain barrier."

Klein looked to Alaric.

"Regardless, you should have come to a teacher, or member of staff, and reported them." Klein stated. "There was no need to take it into your own hands. A school is no place for corporal punishment."

Alaric scoffed at the principal's advice.

"I'm not one to let people like them go around and pillage other people." He said.

"I can understand that but we have rules here and they must be followed." Klein lectured.

"Rules mean nothing unless you intend to enforce them." Alaric lectured back. "From the way they acted when they swaggered up to me, they couldn't care less if you suspended them."

"That doesn't mean that you could just pummel fellow students into pulp..." Klein said before being interrupted by Alaric.

"They're cowards, plain and simple. They prey on weaker kids because they're too cowardly to pick on other targets, and now one has intervened to stop them." Alaric declared, anger slowly rising in his voice "The way they tried to attack me showed that they have never been in a real fight in their lives. The only thing I got out of their only hit was a split lip."

Klein looked down at Alaric's folder again and flicked a few pages. He had read about Alaric's supposed mood swings about certain subjects. But to see them was different from reading about them. Alaric could be quite passionate about things he held dear.

And the principal was about to foolishly intrude on one.

"Anger isn't from your deceased mother, that's for sure." The principal said, tracing his finger on Alaric's folder. "Obviously, these violent tendencies come from your absent father."

That casual remark struck a nerve in Alaric.

"Don't you dare say a word about my father!" Alaric roared, slamming his fist onto the desk and making the principal recoil in surprise.

A loud crack came from the desk and as Alaric removed his fist, a large crack was clearly visible in the hard wood. Alaric then cracked his hand by using the other, the bones shifting back into place and not showing any pain. Klein now knew that talking about Alaric's parents in such a way wasn't a wise thing to do.

"Did your parents divorce or separate before you were born?" Klein asked, in a slightly hesitant way.

Alaric gave an annoyed look. This was the question he always got regarding his parents.

"My mother died giving birth to me and my father went missing in action beforehand, fighting bugs while you were safely here, teaching despicable cowards like those three a bunch of useless lessons." Alaric told the principal, what he felt was the thousandth time, as he sat back down.

Alaric crossed his arms and waited for the principal to continue.

"Right… this must be what they meant by not getting personal." Klein muttered to himself before addressing Alaric. "Still there is the matter of the infractions you have committed. Inflicting bodily harm on other students, in such a way, that could affect their later lives."

Oh great, Alaric thought. Don't take my view into consideration.

Alaric was clearly not impressed and his grimaced face betrayed that fact.

"Look Alaric, I don't make the rules." Klein explained. "I just enforce them."

"No you don't, but I enforce mine." Alaric interjected. "Nothing you can say or do will deter what I believe in."

Alaric sat back into his chair with his arms cross. He was clearly not concerned about what would happen to him.

"So, if you want to punish me instead of punishing the true instigators, because it's easier, then go right ahead." Alaric said. "Frankly, I don't care what you do. I'd rather be back in the Corps. At least _there_ people are honest about things."

Klein sat there wondering what to say. Alaric's outburst had cast a shadow of doubt over him. And it was evident that Alaric wasn't going to see things from his point of view. It was clear that he was stubbornly set in his ways.

Alaric would require some special treatment.

"Well, if it was up to me..." Klein started.

At that moment, somewhat in Alaric's favor, an alarm was sounded, a sharp continuous drone that ripped through the air.

"What in the name of God?" Klein said in puzzlement and then in annoyance. "This better not be another prank like last time."

At that point, emergency shutters loudly slammed down over the windows and locked with a click, making Klein jump in his seat. Security shutters are now a standard thing in schools these days.

Alaric stood up and walked to the door to investigate.

"Alaric, don't step outside until I find out what is going on." Klein ordered, sitting back up and reaching for his intercom. "Admin, what is going on?" he asked.

Only static filled the air.

"Admin?" he asked again.

The door was suddenly flung open, Alaric dodging the swinging panel of metal, and a janitor rushed inside. The janitor then feverishly shut the door and ran towards the principal. As he turned, Alaric and Klein saw that one side of his overalls and terrified face were covered in blood.

Not his own blood.

"Principal Klein!" the janitor sputtered. "We've got an emergency!"

The principal's eyes were wide at the state that the janitor was in.

"What is it, Willis?" Klein asked. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"Xeno Extremists!" Willis said, getting his breath back.

Those two words struck fear into any who heard them. Especially those who had the luck to survive them.

"What?!" Klein gasped "How did they even get in the school?! How did they even get on Earth?!"

"They came in by posing as board officials with credentials, fancy suits, everything. It wasn't until that they brandished their daggers, and slashed Corbin's throat that the truth was out."

"You didn't set the alarm off?!"

"No, it was them. One of them set off the master switch and sealed the school off to stop us from escaping. They've taken the juniors hostage in the assembly hall. They're going to turn them into hosts for bugs!"

Alaric, and in fact most of humanity, knew about Xeno Extremists. They were groups of deranged religious fanatics who believed that the xenomorphs are divine beings, God's true messiahs, and strived to spread them though out the universe to bring about perfect harmony. The first Xeno Extremists, led by a man named Salvaje, which became another word for traitor, nearly cost humanity Earth from the first xenomorph infestation. Extremists are characterized by having full body tattoos of various xenomorphs on their bodies, and wearing a combination of robes and underlying bodysuits that mimic xenomorph physiology, the higher caste extremists having suits and tattoos that befit a xenomorph praetorian or a queen depending on their role.

Extremists, under Federation law, are traitors to be executed without trial and without mercy.

The principal reached for his desk's phone and held it to his ear. He was about to dial for help when he noticed that there was no dial tone.

"The lines are down." He said with horror. "They must have severed the connections too. We're cut off."

The janitor was busy trying to get the blood off his face, wrenching tissues from their box on Klein's desk.

"What do we do?" he asked, rubbing his face furiously.

"Hide and hope we don't get caught when they probe around for hosts." Klein declared, getting out of his chair and going under his desk.

Alaric watched as the principal and the janitor tried to hide under the desk. The principal's girth meant that it was very difficult for the both of them to conceal themselves as one wrong move would send one or both of them tumbling out. And all the while they were bickering.

Alaric, on the other hand, had no intention of hiding. There were fanatical maniacs out there who needed to be stopped before they turned the school into a hive by using mere kids as hosts.

"Oh for the love of..." Alaric said, waking over and reaching for his bag. "How many extremists are there?" he asked the janitor.

"Four, as far as I could tell." Willis answered, having just managed to hide under the desk. "What are you doing?"

Alaric unzipped his bag and was retrieving something the size of his fist from within. It was a USCMC Spec Ops distress beacon. He flipped it open and punched in some keys, encoding the Xeno Extremist distress call and dialing in to Pennsylvania's communication's grid. He then hit the transmit button and placed it on the desk. The beacon flashed a red light as it worked and Alaric placed a folder over it to conceal it.

Another thing he'd had the foresight of packing.

"There." Alaric said, resuming his bag rummaging. "It'll take a while for the authorities to get here but I can't let these bastards get a foothold in the meantime."

He then rummaged around in his bag again.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Klein asked, his movements sending Willis crashing out from the desk.

"My birthright." Alaric said. "I'm going out there to stop those fanatics."

"You can't go out there! Those are trained killers!"

Alaric scoffed at his warning.

I survived predators when I was seven, he thought. These cultists are nothing in comparison.

"Maybe." Alaric said. "But they're not proper warriors. They're murderers."

Alaric pulled a large case, a meter in length and two feet wide, from his bag and put it on the desk with a notable thud.

"I, on the other hand, am a Spartan warrior." He clarified.

He entered a code on the electronic lock and clicked it open. The principal and janitor were expecting Alaric to be pulling out military weaponry but what was inside was something they didn't expect. Inside was a very ornate one handed axe with a broad and masterfully crafted blade with an arrow-headed spike at the back of the head on a shaft of metal that was two and a half feet long. On the head was an emblazoned angular rune of an up pointing arrow and chevrons. Alaric picked up his weapon and cracked a grin as he delicately thumbed the blade.

The principal's and janitor's eyes went wide and jaws dropped when they saw the axe.

"Oh you think this is big?" Alaric said, sensing their reaction. "I have a doubled headed axe that's five feet long."

"Bringing weapons into school?!" Klein exclaimed in shock. "I'll have you expelled for this!"

Alaric looked back to the principal and janitor hiding under the desk as he gave his axe a practiced flourish, demonstrating his skill. He then reached behind him and placed his tome into his bag for safe keeping. He didn't want to risk it getting damaged.

"Just stay here and be quiet." Alaric told them as he walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Alaric crept along the deserted corridors with practiced precision, making as little noise as he could. He knew that the best chance of taking out the extremists would be to stay hidden and then pick them off one by one.<p>

Standing his ground against three bullies is nothing compared to Xeno Extremists.

Alaric cautiously checked every room that he came across, seeing if there were any people inside. Most of the classrooms were empty, meaning that the occupants had fled during the chaos and escaped in time or were hiding. Some had a few students and teachers cowering inside or who were busy trying to force their way out of the windows. Alaric didn't have time to search each room.

He came across the body of the slain janitor that Willis talked about right by the main school control and power systems. The man's throat was sliced right open and a large puddle of blood had formed around him. From his evaluation of the wound, Alaric concluded that the attack caught the janitor totally by surprise. The wide eyes on the dead man's face proved that. Alaric muttered a short prayer and looked at the instruments.

The controls and interfaces were set to lockdown the entire school and were then destroyed so that it could not be countermanded. Alaric was paying attention to the grooves that the extremist's had inflicted. They in groups of four and Alaric was sure that they weren't caused by tools. He dragged his fingers across the sparking grooves. He then quickly guessed that these marks were made by claws or a close grouping of bladed implements.

Alaric quickly left the area before any extremists came wandering into him.

Alaric had not seen any of the extremists so far. He postulated they must all be in the assembly hall. At least they would be easy to locate. But he had to be sure that they didn't know that he was loose in the school and to take care of any sentries who would otherwise give his position away.

Alaric then thought that it would be much safer to use the air vents to move around undetected. Using the extremist's 'divine messiahs' own tactics, so to speak. Traveling down the corridor was exposing him to detection. Alaric came across the nearest vent grate, carefully climbing into the lockers. After a quick examination, he deftly opened the grate and looked inside. The vents were just big enough for him to get inside in a crouch and that was all he needed.

Alaric heaved himself through the opened vent, sifted around and then pulled the grating back in place. No sooner did he slide the grate back with a click, that did he hear footsteps. Alaric stayed still; making sure his axe was out of the light to prevent reflection.

From the sound of the footsteps, this wasn't a student or a teacher. And when the mystery walker came into view, he saw that it was one of the enemies.

Coming down the hall was a Xeno Extremist. A large burly man clothed in a mixture of a business suit disguise and the form fitting bodysuit that mimicked the xenomorph physique. He was rubbing his round hard face with a cloth and when the cloth was lowered for a second, Alaric could see the defining feature of the extremists. Partial tattoos of xenomorphs were on the cultist's bald head and face. Alaric could see that the tattoos were in fact covered in convincing makeup.

Alaric watched as the cultist cleared the rest of his face, revealing more of the organic tattooing and chucked the cloth over his shoulder. He then went about tearing the rest of the suit off, having served its purpose. Around his girth on a sinewy belt and scabbard was a wicked looking dagger with the twelve inch blade made in the shape of a xenomorph's tail and the pommel a xenomorph's head. There were also various pouches and pockets that contained a myriad of items.

"Right." The cultist said to himself. "Time to find some more Chosen to join us."

The cultist then looked around, thinking where he could find more students. He then cracked a grin when he noticed the girl's changing room. He walked in, drawing his dagger. Alaric followed after him in the vents, quickly gaining his bearings as he shuffled through.

When Alaric got into the vents above the girl's changing rooms, he could hear frightened screaming coming from inside, along with sinister cackling. Alaric shuffled carefully up towards the nearest grate. Looking down the grating, Alaric could see that the cheerleader team, about six of them, was cornered in the showers. The cultist had the way out blocked with his girth.

"Well, this is a nice surprise." the cultist said with a tone of lust. "You lot will make fine additions to our cause."

Alaric, knowing full well what the cultist was intending, had now carefully lifted the grate up and leaned through.

"But I think I have time for a little fun before the ritual." The cultist decided licking his lips. "Now, don't even think of trying to resist."

He stepped closer towards them, his hands reaching down to his groin and causing the cheerleaders to start screaming.

But, this fate it seemed was not to be.

Before the cultist even had time to so much as loosen his belt, his body jerked as a sharp slice was heard from behind him and he suddenly choked and sputtered. Blood streamed from his mouth, and a large red stain was seeping from his chest. The cheerleaders exclaimed in shock from that display. The cultist looked down to his chest, gave one last rasp before falling forwards into the shower floor with a loud thump, stone dead. A large ornate axe head was sticking out of his back.

The cheerleaders gasped when they saw the weapon sticking out of his back and the blood that seeped out of his body and towards the drain.

Alaric then dropped down from the air vent in a calculated flip. He walked over and ripped his axe out of the still warm corpse.

"That's one." He counted, flourishing his axe. "Three more to go."

He looked to the cheerleaders.

"I suggest finding a better hiding spot." He said, grabbing the corpse. "Cheerleaders in a shower are too obvious, and too cliché."

He then, with remarkable strength, unceremoniously dumped the dead cultist into a cubicle, provoking a gasp from the cheerleaders, and shut the door before switching the showers on to wash away the blood. He holstered his axe back on his back and jumped back up to the vent. He grabbed on and pulled himself up.

"Stay quiet and be one with the shadows." He told the cheerleaders, before sealing the grate.

* * *

><p>Alaric wasn't crawling in the vents for too long when he heard shouting coming from below. He thought it was someone who had been discovered by the extremists but the tone and annoyance he heard proved otherwise. Alaric crawled to the nearest grate and looked out. There was another extremist further up the hall, a gaunter and spindly looking one then the big brute Alaric had taken down. This one was more akin to the xenomorphs they revere.<p>

"Kelloth." The cultist called into a comm-unit in his hand "Kelloth? Kelloth, you better not be indulging your perverse tastes again."

Alaric, judging from the direction the cultist was walking from, guessed that this one was investigating into his fellow's disappearance. Alaric estimated where the cultist was walking and silently moved after him.

"Kelloth, you're supposed to bring back Chosen, undefiled." The cultist called in his comms. "You keep your libido in your underwear or the Patriarch will cut it off."

Alaric, predicting where the cultist was going, moved up ahead of him to an overhead grate and waited until the cultist walked under the vent before he struck. Alaric dropped out of the vent and landed feet down onto the cultist's shoulders. The unexpected impact was enough to force the cultist on his knees and Alaric stomped on his head, sending him into the floor with a loud thud as his head connected to the linoleum. Alaric rolled off and readied his axe and the cultist struggled to his feet, holding his head.

"You're dead, whoever you are!" he cursed, reaching for his dagger and getting to his feet.

The cultist was surprised to see that his ambusher was a student, an oddly dressed student at that. He didn't think military clothing was a current fad in schools these days. He then saw Alaric's hair spikes and ruby eyes and was confused from what he was seeing.

"Wait a second." The cultist said, puzzled from what he was seeing. "You look oddly familiar."

Then he saw the axe in Alaric's hand and the pieces fell into place.

"You?!" he exclaimed in hated surprise. "You're must be Darius' son! So, he did have children."

Alaric held his axe up onto his shoulder and he quickly remembered stories that Razeal and his squad had told him about previous battles. And he definitely remembered the LV-326 infestation and how Xeno Extremists had nearly succeeded. Darius and the Squad had supposedly wiped out every last extremist.

"Razeal told me of extremists he and my father fought." He recalled. "I thought you lot were all dead."

The cultist hawked and then spat on the floor at the mere mention of Razeal's name.

"My cabal had been destroyed by Darius and his heathens. Only four of us, out of a six thousand congregation, remain." The cultist said, rearing up his dagger. "But now, with God's blessings, we will rise again stronger then before!"

He then gave a wicked smile which foreshadowed his intentions.

"Our Patriarch will reward me greatly with your death!" he declared, raising his dagger.  
>Alaric cocked his head, like he wasn't taking the extremist seriously.<p>

"You couldn't fight my father before, what makes you think you can fight me?" Alaric asked, his axe still resting on his shoulder.

"You're just a kid." The cultist declared.

The cultist charged as Alaric, aiming his knife for Alaric's neck. However, as the cultist lunged, Alaric fluidly counterattacked with expert precision.

Alaric stepped to the side and, with a flourish; his axe tore through the cultist's throat in a showering arc of crimson blood. The cultist skidded to his knees, dagger clattering to the floor, instinctively clasping his eviscerated neck in a futile attempt to stem the flow that was gushing forth. Alaric walked in front of him, flipping his axe around and the arrow spike glinted in the light.

"I am a Spartan." Alaric corrected.

Alaric then finished the cultist off with his axe's rear spike to the forehead. The spike penetrated the skull and brain with a crack, killing the cultist instantly. The cultist's hands dropped down and dangled lifelessly, apart from slight twitches as the nervous system crashed, before Alaric then gave the kneeling corpse a kick, sending it onto the floor with a thud with an arc of blood spraying from his neck, and freeing his axe.

The cultist was killed just like a xenomorph's victim.

How ironic.

"That's two." Alaric counted, holstering his axe. "By my ancestors, these cultists are easy."

Alaric rolled the cultist onto his back and started scavenging for anything of use. He soon found a pilot's license along with a school inspector's certificate. He then examined each in turn carefully before he dumped them back on the cultist.

"They spent a lot of credits to get fake IDs this convincing." He said. "No wonder they got in so easily."

He then found a few USB chips in a secure case. He removed them and placed them in one of his belt pouches before putting the case back. Maybe there was some useful information on them, such as other Xeno Extremist cells and contacts.

Alaric got up, planning his next move to hunt down the next extremist as he grabbed the body by the legs to hide it.

That was when he heard fast running footsteps coming from up ahead. He looked up ahead and he saw another extremist dart around the corner, stopping when he saw Alaric and his dead fellow cultist. Alaric could see that this one was armed with not only a dagger in its scabbard but also with a military grade handgun.

"Shit!" Alaric cursed, dropping the legs and darting away from the scene.

A shot was fired and it whizzed past Alaric as he darted around a corner. The advantage was now in the extremist's favor.

"I found the intruder!" the cultist shouted as he chased after Alaric. "Judicah is dead, I'm pursuing!"

Alaric ran as fast as he could, darting around corners to try and lose the cultist, who was tenaciously homing on his tail. Another shot whizzed past him, impacting the wall with a loud ping and a shower of dust. Alaric lost count of how many corners he dived behind and corridors he sprinted down. He had even jumped through a door window in an attempt to shake the cultist off. And a few students or teachers emerged to see what was going on, only for Alaric to yell at them to hide.

After several frenzied minutes of dodging bullets and skidding into walls and lockers more times then he cared to count, Alaric stopped running as he came to a set of double doors that led to the craft and technical block. He caught his breath as he looked back. He couldn't see the cultist chasing after him.

Finally lost him, he thought as shook his hair clear of glass chips.

How wrong was he?

Alaric was suddenly smashed hard to the floor with zero warning from behind. Alaric looked up and he saw that the cultist had in fact chased him from the opposite direction. And Alaric had fallen right into the trap.

"Shit!" Alaric cursed.

The cultist then grabbed Alaric hard by the neck in a crushing grip before he could move, wrenching his axe from his back and raised him up and off the ground before slamming him into the hard wall. Alaric saw that the left half of the cultist's face was a cybernetic mask, adding an imposing visage to an already nasty looking individual with praetorian xenomorph tattoos.

No doubt a souvenir from Alaric' father.

The extremist looked at the axe and Alaric's face in turn. He leaned his head closer to Alaric's face, taking in his ruby eyes.

"So, it is true." The cultist said, his disgust not even disguised. "Darius, that heathen, did have a son."

Alaric was then dumped unceremoniously to the ground hard and then the cultist gave him a hard kick in the gut. The air was forced out of Alaric's lungs from the blow and he retched in barely suppressed pain.

"The resemblance is unmistakable." He finished picking Alaric up by the hair before opening the door and hurling Alaric through.

Alaric went crashing into the corridor beyond and before he got to his knees, the cultist was on him again. Alaric lashed out with his fists but the cultist had him at a good distance so Alaric was lashing air when the cultist grabbed him by the hair and hoisted him up.

"Stubborn too." The cultist added as he opened the nearest door.

Alaric was tossed into the carpentry and crafts section of the school, the machinery still operating from the sudden evacuation, crashing into a large bin full of scrap wood. The metal tub capsized from the impact and a deluge of sharp splinters washed over him. Alaric hastily burst out of heap, shaking the splinters out of his clothing, hair and arms.

The cultist walked in carrying Alaric's axe in hand. He then tossed it over his shoulder where the heirloom clattered onto a pile of scrap metal. He also holstered his pistol.

"Darius was supposed to be the best fighter in the Earth's entire Marine Corps." The cultist said. "Well, I'd like to see how well his son lives up to his reputation."

Alaric got up looking for something to use as a weapon. He soon found an iron bar propped up against the wall. He grabbed and hefted it up ready for defending himself.

The cultist unsheathed his dagger and cracked his knuckles.

"Ready yourself boy, here I come!" the cultist roared.

Alaric readied himself as the cultist charged. The dagger met the iron bar with a clang and the fight began. Alaric went onto the defensive as the cultist unleashed a flurry of swipes and stabs, testing Alaric's abilities.

It was apparent that this cultist didn't earn his praetorian tattoos for nothing. This extremist was an experienced fighter. And he was bringing that experience into play. Alaric was holding up but it was only a matter of time before the cultist outmaneuvered him.

The cultist lashed out at Alaric with his dagger and Alaric parried with the bar. However, it become lodged into the notch at the base of the blade and with a twist, the cultist flicked it out of Alaric's grasp. Alaric then ducked under the dagger and grabbed the cultist's arm, trying to force him to the ground. The cultist counterattacked and Alaric received a backhand across the face.

Alaric tried to deliver a roundhouse kick but the cultist caught his leg and brutally slammed him to the ground. Alaric was then grabbed by the neck and then shoved hard into a wall. Alaric lashed out with his feet, landing a few blows on the cultist.

"You are just like Darius." The cultist said, not even concerned about Alaric's attempt. "Stubborn enough to stand against anything that came against him. And it was that stubbornness that cost me and my brethren everything."

The cultist then punched Alaric hard in the gut. Alaric retched from the impact to his stomach.

"Well, a messiah born from you will be a great asset." The cultist considered.

"Fuck you!" Alaric defiantly grunted through clenched teeth.

Alaric was then hurled into a shelf unit with a loud crash of breaking timber and clattering tools. The entire shelving unit collapsed on top of him, provoking a shout of suppressed pain and shock from Alaric.

Alaric forced himself out from under the shelves, now more battered then before. The cultist was on him in an instant, pinning him on his back with the dagger to Alaric's throat. He then proceeded to choke Alaric into submission. Alaric grabbed the cultist's fists and tried to wrench free.

The cultist chuckled in a sinister fashion as he lowered face to face with Alaric.  
>"Darius had planted his seed in the wrong whore." "What a weak and pathetic legacy you left your father. Just a frail little child."<p>

Slurring against Alaric's parents would prove to be a fatal mistake.

"I'm not a child!" Alaric declared as his eyes flashed crimson. "I am a Spartan!"

The cultist's grin left his face in shock at this sight and his fingers loosened. And Alaric had his chance.

"Impossi..." the cultist stammered before Alaric retaliated.

Alaric curled backwards, his boots on his opponent's chest and gave a shove of surprising strength that sent the cultist reeling back and Alaric followed suit. The cultist landed on his back and Alaric proceeded to repeatedly punch the fanatic in the face in a frenzy of blows. By the time cultist manage to smash Alaric aside, his nose had been broken into a heap, several teeth were missing, and a large gash was prevalent over his good eye.  
>The cultist drew his dagger and rushed up to Alaric. Alaric received a hard kick to the face and was dragged to a pile of planks and was dumped hard onto them.<p>

"Enough!" the cultist declared, rearing up his dagger "You die now!"

The cultist brought the dagger down hard towards Alaric's face. But Alaric took this situation into consideration and planned for it, even to the point of being dumped on the planks.

Alaric grabbed a piece of planking and blocked the dagger, it's blade punching through and just barely nicking his cheek. Alaric gave a kick to the cultist's knee and twisted the dagger away from him. He then gave a fierce smash to the face with the plank with enough force to break the plank into pieces and the dagger went flying to the other side of the area and clattering to the floor. The cultist reeled from that impact, yelling as more of his face cracked as Alaric scampered for the dagger. The cultist managed to recover to his feet in time to see Alaric grab the dagger and he drew his handgun.  
>Alaric grabbed the dagger and rolled to his feet. He was greeted by the firing of a gun and the impact of a bullet hitting his chest. His flak vest managed to catch the bullet but the force of it was enough to make Alaric reel backwards and the ballistics mesh and padding ruptured in a cloud. The cultist cursed, the concussion throwing off his aim, as he lined up to take another shot, hoping for a more lethal aim.<p>

Alaric knew he had to close the gap fast and he pushed his bruised body to do it.  
>Alaric charged at the cultist as the shot whizzed past his right arm, tearing a deep gash into his shoulder. Alaric didn't have time to worry about it as the distance between him and the cultist shrank. The cultist missed the next shot as Alaric ducked at the last second and tackled the cultist to the ground, smacking the butt of the dagger to the side of his head. The cultist abandoned his pistol, unwillingly as Alaric smashed it away, and focused on trying to get Alaric off him with his free left arm. Alaric grappled the arm, giving an unbelievably hard twist and with a flick of the wrist, snapped the cultist's wrist.<p>

The cultist yelled in pain but was then was silenced as Alaric drove his boot into the cultist's face. Several more teeth went flying out of his mouth before Alaric dragged the momentarily dazed cultist by the neck to the nearest machine's conveyer belt.

Alaric repeatedly smashed the cultists head into the conveyer belts' frame several times in a frenzy, a large red stain growing larger with every impact. Alaric then heaved the cultist up onto the belt, whose face was now a bloody and slightly misshapen mess, and head butted him, stunning him for a moment. But that moment was all Alaric needed.

Alaric shoved the cultist up flat onto the belt and drove the dagger deep into his good hand, the steel blade slicing through flesh, bone and the reinforced belt before bending as it hit the internal workings beneath. The cultist was now thoroughly nailed onto the conveyer belt and was dragged along with it. The cultist only gave a load grunt of pain and anger before reaching for his dagger with his crippled hand.

Alaric held his head as he watched the cultist get dragged along, his feet trying to halt his advance.

"When I get free, you're dead!" the cultist declared in anger, trying to wrench his dagger out. "You'll pay for this humiliation!"

Alaric then pointed further down the conveyer belt with a rather sinister grin on his blood streaked face.

"Better hurry then." Alaric recommended as he stepped back. "Or you'll lose more than your pride."

The cultist, following Alaric's finger, looked further down and realized that the conveyer belt was heading straight for a sawbench's protruding disk blade. And it was operating! The cultist struggled to get free, cursing aloud when he saw that his dagger was not shifting at all and his fractured wrist was preventing him from getting a firm grip on his dagger. And the whirring bladed disk was inching closer and closer, towards his abdomen. The cultist's efforts became increasingly desperate and he was now resorting to having to wrench his hand through the dagger's blade.

Alaric wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to see what was going to happen but thought it would make a good occupational hazard example.

The cultist screamed in terror and then in pain when he finally contacted the saw. The tungsten edged blade effortlessly tore through his flesh and bones, drowning out his screams until it severed him in twain. Blood and tearing flesh sprayed through the air in messy arcs, painting the immediate area in a deep crimson shade. Alaric took another step back to avoid getting sprayed, not before getting a good splattering of blood in his eyes. It took a few seconds of rending flesh and severing spine before the saw passed through. The cultist's legs dropped to the ground, spilling what was left of his bowels while his major organs squelched out of his body cavity in a torrent of gore. The cultist gave out a last rasping groan before shock, blood loss and trauma claimed his life and his head dropped down with a thud.

Alaric wiped his eyes, saw the resulting carnage with was like the set of a b-movie horror film and went to turn the saw off, it's gore slicked teeth dripping with life's essence as it slowed and stopped. He then moved over to the remains, being careful not to slip over on the now slippery floor and had a quick look.

"Well, the cult now has two half brothers." He said, giving the legs a prod with his boot.

He felt the gash in his shoulder; barely flinching as he touched the bleeding ruptured flesh which blood had now trickled down past his elbow. He then went about searching for a first aid kit. With luck, he found the medical locker with an advanced medical kit inside. Obviously this kit was designed for any accident that could occur in this workshop.

Not that the cultist could be helped one bit by this.

Alaric gathered a needle and thread, bandages and antiseptic swabs and sat down on a bench. He threaded the needle with some thread, tied it off and then reached for an antiseptic swab. He thoroughly swabbed his shoulder, gritting his teeth as a sharp tingle spread from his open wound as he repeated the procedure again. Disposing of the bloodied swabs, Alaric took the needle in hand and relaxed his shoulder. Alaric then jabbed the needle into his flesh, suppressing the pain as he pulled the needle through, bring the edges of the wound together. He then deftly stitched up his shoulder, making sure it was sealed up before he bandaged it up.

He took this moment to get his breath back before the final push towards the last cultist.

He then heard a bleep coming from the bisected cultist's chest and Alaric investigated. He soon found a comm-unit in one of the bodysuit's pockets. It was miraculous that it wasn't damaged in the fight, aside from a dented casing. He held it and clicked the relevant button.

"Where are you, Mel'kior?!" A voice with a theocratic and learned accent demanded. "Have you eliminated the intruder, yet?! Answer me!"

Alaric coughed quietly as he put on a gruff voice as he replied.

"If you want to speak to your subordinate, you'll have to have to consult a psychic for that." Alaric said, keeping a straight face.

A pause was apparent as the cultist on the other side processed this information.

"Who is this?!" it questioned. "What have you done with my Brethren?!"

"You'll be joining them soon enough." Alaric answered. "Death is coming for you next."

Alaric then dropped the comm-unit and thoroughly stomped on it. The piece of tech exploded under his boot in a shower of sparks and a wisp of smoke. He strode through the war torn workshop and retrieved his axe.

Well, he thought as he holstered his axe on his back. Next stop, the assembly hall.

Alaric looked the cultist's torso that was still nailed to the conveyer belt.

I suppose I better return his cronies, he added. Might give him a little incentive to surrender.

He reached over and wrenched the dagger free before tossing the useless implement away. Alaric then dragged the dissected torso off the belt and plopped it down by its legs. All the while, he tried not to trip over the offal and excrement that lay sprawled on the floor or get nauseated. He then drag both of them clear of the bench saw and laid them together haphazardly, scooping the organs back in place with a nearby dustpan, before setting off to gather some things.

"Right." Alaric said, gathering up some twine and a crudely fashioned needle from nearby. "Time to reunite these bastards, in death."

* * *

><p>The last extremist, the Patriarch of this cult, was guarding his chosen sacrifices. An imposing seven foot tall man, he paced up and down in front of the 'chosen', his long black robes, with intricate xenomorph patterns decorating the cloth, flowing behind him. He also wore a ceremonial mask over his eyes and forehead that mimicked the eyeless visage of the xenomorphs. Several dozen students and several teachers were bound and kneeling in front of him in the eastern wall of the assembly hall.<p>

The Patriarch was definitely into middle age as shown by a single long graying braid of hair that went down his back and down to the floor. His attire and tattoos marked him as the cult leader, having a queen mother transcribed into his flesh on robes. He also bore cybernetic arms from the elbows down that had been fashioned into xenomorph claws with razor sharp talons with he held together in the sign of prayer. His ornate ceremonial dagger was hanging in its scabbard at his waist, its xenomorph head pommel shining in the light.

The claws are the reminder of his previous defeat at the hands of Alaric's father.

The Patriarch was in a somewhat joyous mood, although this was likely a front considering the setback with the unexpected resistance. He was addressing them like they were new converts.

"You lot should be honored to be carrying the divine creatures of our lord." He addressed the hostages with pride, not caring in the slightest if they thought otherwise. "You will have a fragment of God within you, nurtured by your flesh. And from the sacrifice of your mortal forms, this universe will be reborn."

The Patriarch then pointed to the body of a janitor that was lying in the centre of the hall in a large pool of blood, his throat sliced wide open.

"This one was unwilling to pay the price and resisted." He showed. "So he died for nothing. This is the fate of those who lack the faith to give their lives for God, know that it is a waste. "

He walked away from them and stopped by a cargo crate, one of many that were piled up in the hall at the opposite western wall.

There was something odd about the way the Patriarch walked. There was a distinctive sound of metal rapping against the floor and the posture, which was much more animalistic, from the way he stood suggested that there was something wrong with his legs.

"When this little thorn in my side appears, he will regret standing in my way." The Patriarch declared to himself. "None can stand before the faithful."

He then carefully grabbed a crate and carried it to the centre of the hall. He placed it on the floor and then caressed it reverently before anger filled him.

"Saljave, our founding father, offered salvation to us and what did you do?" he asked his captives.

There was no answer from his hostages. So he told them what the answer was. In a loud and threateningly condescendingly manner that made most of the hostages cower.

"You cast that gift away and killed our god's messiahs!" he roared "You defied God's will!"

He then quickly composed himself as he relinquished his hold on the crate.

"We, and many of our brethren, intend to continue his great work and will not rest until all are in paradise." He declared with pious devotion. "And to do so, we need willing volunteers."

The Patriarch then strode towards the hostages stopping a meter from them. He surveyed the mass of innocents before him, no doubt deciding who will be the first to be 'blessed' with a xenomorph. He soon found a small girl who looked like the epitome of innocence with bright eyes in her tear streaked face.

He then crouched down right next to the girl who turned away in fright while other hostages shuffled away from the Patriarch. The Patriarch then clasped her face with a claw and brought her face back to him, careful enough not to damage her face with his talons.

"Don't be frightened, Child." He said softly and comfortingly. "God you take you into his loving embrace when you depart this mortal realm.

The girl was hardly convinced as she wrenched her head away, managing to avoid tearing her face. The Patriarch then clasped her shoulder and went about ushering her towards the crate. She on the other hand resisted as hard as she could.

The Patriarch then picked her up by her arms and hoisted her off the floor. She yelped in fright as he moved his masked visage towards her face. His pallid skin, almost corpse-like in its appearance, suggested that there was something else wrong with him, other than his cybernetics.

"Dying is nothing to be afraid of." He told her. "It is something that all things are destined to do."

Little did he know that at point, retribution was nigh.

The lights in the assembly hall suddenly shut off. Some of the students exclaimed in fright while others curled into balls for protection. Emergency lights activated moments later casting everything in a dim glow. Only the hall's exits and the centre of the hall were fully lit to a degree.

The Patriarch dropped the girl and she landed with a thud back on the floor before huddling up to the other students.

"What is this?" he demanded, looking around.

"Police?" a student whispered. "The army?"

The Patriarch had now drawn his pistol out, crafted aesthetically like xenomorph chitin and modified to accommodate his claws, and was aiming around him, waiting for his mystery problem to appear. He had no doubt surmised that the intruder had shut the power off to the hall in order to try and surprise him.

But he had no intention being scared by the tactics used by his divine messiahs.

"Police are of no use here." He clarified to the hostages as he moved to the centre of the hall. "This school has been cut off from all contact with the outside world. No one is going to stop me from carrying God's will and bringing forth paradise."

Then he heard something that would put his plans of zealous grandeur on permanent hiatus.

"Paradise?" The gruff voice questioned, echoing throughout the entire hall like a god. "Hell is what the bugs bring."

The Patriarch was slightly taken back that mystery attacker had infiltrated this close. He looked around, trying to find the intruder.

"You finally came." The Patriarch said, looking around him. "Face me so that I can smite you down!"

"Death is coming for you and Death cannot be defeated." The voice warned.

A loud thud was heard from the far end of the hall, the sound of a body hitting the floor. The Patriarch fired a round in that direction, the bullet ricocheting in the distance. Several more thuds were heard, one having more density then those previous. The Patriarch fired the whole magazine in a spread pattern, trying to hit whatever was in the shadows. He heard some on the rounds hit flesh and then heard another thud.

It would appear that he had gotten his intruder with less effort then he intended.

The Patriarch scoffed in disappointment as he lowered his pistol.

"Well, that was less than engaging." He said, turning back to the hostages. "He was right about death. Only that death claimed him instead of me."

However, the voice started to chuckle in a sinister fashion from where the Patriarch had been shooting. The Patriarch stopped in mid-step in unexpected shock before turning back around.

"Hey, coward." The voice said. "You are a lousy shot. And in a warzone, you'd be dead before the spent casing hit the ground."

The Patriarch quickly reloaded his pistol. He hadn't shot the intruder like he first thought.

"Show yourself!" he demanded. "Are you too cowardly to face one of God's chosen?"

"Are you too cowardly to stare Death in the face and smile?" the voice countered.

The mystery voice revealed itself and it was a shock for all.

Alaric stepped out of the shadows under one of the lights at the far end of the hall, dragging something behind him. Dried blood was streaked on his tattered clothing, bruised face, hair, and hands. He had his axe in one hand and with the other he clutched a rope line which dragged the lifeless bodies of the three other extremists behind him, each in varying degrees of mutilation with added bullet holes when the lighting revealed them. The reaction from the Patriarch and the hostages were of a mixture of horrific surprise and nausea as the bodies left a red streak behind Alaric as he approached. One of the more frail hostages retched at the back.

The large cultist was soaked in his own blood with only a ragged gash in his back. The gaunt cultist had much more trauma inflicted with his throat torn open and a jagged blood encrusted hole in his skull. And, the praetorian extremist looked like a serial killer's version of a piñata, beaten to a pulp, sliced in half and hastily but thoroughly sewed back together.

"Sorry about not arriving earlier, but it was difficult pulling them through the vents." Alaric apologized, pointing his axe at the large corpse. "Especially this large bastard, here."

The Patriarch couldn't believe what he was seeing. The mystery slayer of his brethren was a child? An oddly dressed child at that, but a child never the less.

"What the?!" The Patriarch said in confusion and disbelief. "You're a mere boy?!"

Alaric cocked his head to one head in thought.

"Kid?" Alaric quizzed. "Hardly… not anymore."

Alaric dragged the corpses out in line, displaying each in turn.

"As you can see, your cronies were little match against me." Alaric said, pointing to each corpse in turn. "He lost his heart. He lost his voice. And he, the only challenge among them, lost his guts."

He then lifted up his shirt sleeve, showing off the bandage on his shoulder.

"Aside from some pathetic scratches and bruises, _this_ was the only significant wound they inflicted." He indicated.

The Patriarch, having just registered Alaric's hair, eyes and blood stained axe, realized who Alaric was. And it was like a spitting image of his nemesis was standing in front of him.

"The son of Darius." He said in disgusted realization. "Only you could have done this."

"Heard that before." Alaric casually reminded. "Your goons said that to me just before I killed them."

The Patriarch holstered his pistol.

"It seems God has blessed me indeed." He said. "The last remnant of that heathen is standing in front of me and retribution is at hand."

Alaric dragged the rope line to one side of the hall and left the bodies there before walking back. He wasn't at all threatened by what the Patriarch had in store for his 'retribution'. And he cleared the battlefield of the dead Janitor, with respect and care, so no obstructions would hinder him.

"I thought you had been killed when his squad was wiped out." The Patriarch pointed out

That remark made Alaric stop dead in his tracks. That memory briefly entered his head, seeing the deaths of Razeal, Mills and all the others at the hands of a sadistic Yautja hunter flash before him. He forced it back to the depths as he faced the Patriarch.

"How could you have survived that when you were only seven years old?" The Patriarch questioned. "Hunters aren't ones to leave any witnesses behind."

Alaric didn't answer as he hefted his axe, his eyes down. His fingers gripped his weapon tightly, making his knuckles crack.

"Ah, a touchy subject." The Patriarch said in a malevolent tone.

Alaric looked up at the Patriarch.

"How did you find out?" Alaric demanded, anger slowly seeping into his speech.

"Oh, I have contacts who keep me informed of significant events." The Patriarch boasted. "It seemed prudent to know about galactic affairs while recovering."

Alaric thought about the USB drives that he had recovered from the gaunt cultist. It is possible that those might have the contacts that the Patriarch was referring to.

"Razeal told me about your attacks on LV-326." Alaric said. "Biggest attack by Extremists since Earth."

"Your father destroyed my cabal after we had unleashed paradise into the colony." The Patriarch explained with venom lacing his voice. "He and that wretched squad of his in particular ruined our ascent to paradise, slaughtered us for doing God's work."

"Slaughtering innocents as God's work?" Alaric questioned cynically, pointing his axe to the dead janitor. "The most used excuse in existence. And the excuse used by power mad tyrants."

The Patriarch was unrepentant.

"Sacrifices must be made to bring about Paradise." He dictated.

Alaric scoffed at the Patriarch's reasoning.

History had shown that religion had been the cause for much death and suffering over the centuries. Despite it being a way of understanding the world and the purpose of life, it was easily corrupted as an excuse to commit horrific acts. Entire peoples were massacred under the pretence that it was God's will to do so. Innocent people were tortured and executed by the Inquisition, witch hunters and other such groups, if they had even the slightest difference in view in either philosophical or scientific subjects or whether they just despised them to begin with.

In a sense, religion in the wrong hands became tyranny in another form.

"Paradise?" Alaric questioned. "What bugs do to worlds is not Paradise. It is hell incarnate."

"Only to the unworthy." The Patriarch pointed out.

Alaric had questions for the Patriarch, questions that relate to these events.

"How was it you survived all those years ago?" Alaric questioned.

"Survived?" the Patriarch said, showing off his claws "I not only survived, I have become stronger. Darius had, unknowingly, cast my humanity off so I can be more like the divine messiahs. With that very axe you now wield."

Sounds like Father had lopped off half his brain too, Alaric thought.

"My most loyal followers managed to evade the massacre and brought me back from the brink of death. Since then we have been biding our time and waiting for a sign from God to continue Salvaje's work. Starting here."

Alaric rolled his eyes.

"But first, given the circumstance, there is the matter of vengeance." The Patriarch declared. "Vengeance against Darius. But since he is no longer around, you will have to pay the price in his stead."

Alaric simply hefted his axe into a battle ready stance.

"Your move." Alaric declared.

The Patriarch laughed at Alaric's response. It wasn't in a mocking way but rather a pleased and content manner.

"Bravery against overwhelming odds." He said. "Just like your father."

He then got serious.

"Only one of us will be leaving this hall alive." The Patriarch declared as he clasped the hem of his robes. "This time, I will be the victor."

_Oh great, is he gonna flash me to death,_ Alaric thought.

The patriarch then unfurled his robes, the priestly vestige falling to the floor, revealing something that made Alaric's eyes go wide. It wasn't just cybernetic arms that the Patriarch had. His legs were also cybernetic from the hip down and they were made into xenomorph legs. And like the claws, they were tipped with wickedly curved and razor sharp talons.

It was like the patriarch had suddenly transformed into one of the xenomorphs that he and his kind revered.

Alaric, in a first for him, nervously gripped his axe as he saw those blades glint.

_Okay_, he thought in apprehension. _This is going to be tough. At least he hasn't got the tail, too._

The Patriarch then drew his dagger, its bloodstained blade shining maliciously in the light.

"Come, boy." He said; flourishing his dagger and flexing his free claw. "Let's see if you can do your father justice?"

Then with horrific speed, the patriarch charged at Alaric. Alaric barely had time to ready his axe when the Patriarch unleashed a vicious backhand at his face. Alaric was smashed clear off his feet, landing several feet away in a heap. The hostages exclaimed in terror when Alaric hit the ground.

Alaric heaved himself up, shaking his head and looking up. He saw the Patriarch pounce towards him and barely managing to roll out of the way as the talons on his cybernetic feet dug into the hardwood floor, making ragged splinters rise up from his weight. Alaric rolled away, lashing his axe at the Patriarch's leg, scraping the metal in a shower of sparks.

The Patriarch laughed at Alaric's attempt as Alaric gripped his axe and rose up. Alaric had little time to react as the Patriarch lashed out at him. Alaric parried the claws and dagger with his axe and dodged as hard as he could.

"What's the matter?" The Patriarch asked. "Are you afraid?"

Alaric was starting to think that this was getting ridiculously out of his depth. Whereas all the other cultists had one or two weapons, the Patriarch had five of them, thanks to his cybernetics. And he had to admit, he was more worried about the claws than the dagger.

But afraid? No he wasn't. He just viewed this as a challenge. An insane challenge, but a challenge nonetheless.

Alaric managed to feint the Patriarch and swiveled past the extremist, lashing out with his axe. The blade met armor and flesh and a large cut was left in the Patriarchs side. The Patriarch stepped back from Alaric and felt his side. Blood and synthetic fluid, the high iron and copper variant that closely resembled normal blood, seeped out.

"Very good." The patriarch applauded. "But not good enough!"

The Patriarch flipped over Alaric and Alaric found himself exposed and in serious trouble as the Patriarch lashed out with his claws before Alaric could move.

A sharp tear was heard from Alaric's back as the Patriarch's claws raked across him before he could dodge. Blood arced though the air as the force of the swipe hurled Alaric through the air before crashing hard into the ground. Alaric writhed in suppressed pain as the deep cuts on his back, miraculously missing his spine, bled rapidly. His flak vest did nothing to protect him from the claws.

The Patriarch grinned at the sight of Alaric in pain but was quickly and defiantly shifting to his knees, using his axe to support himself.

"It's ironic." The Patriarch said, striding over to Alaric. "I'm killing you and your blessed father gave me the tools to do it with."

Alaric panted hard as he got to his feet.

Alaric steeled himself and charged once more into the fray, pushing the pain of his slashed back aside to focus on the fight. The Patriarch was mockingly applauding Alaric's stubbornness.

"That's better." The Patriarch praised sardonically. "More like your father."

Alaric lashed out with his axe and the Patriarch blocked the attack before responding with a low sweeping kick to topple Alaric. Alaric however anticipated this and evaded the kick with a jump and giving the patriarch a roundhouse kick to the face.

The Patriarch reeled from that attack, leaving himself open to attack and Alaric had his chance. He lunged at the Patriarch, his axe aiming to take the fanatic's head off. However the Patriarch spun with a kick of his own and knocked Alaric to the side, the talons slicing through his vest and slashing along his ribs. Alaric crashed face down into the floor and skidded far from the hostages, leaving behind a red streak as his axe clattered near him.

Alaric was then brutally smashed into the ground as the Patriarch jumped into the air landed on Alaric's back before grinding his taloned feet into Alaric's back, tearing him up even more. Alaric did his best to get free, straining under the relentless tide of suffering, but he was pinned. He tried to reach his axe but it was too far away.

After an unknown period of torture, The Patriarch picked up Alaric by the neck in a crushing grip and held him up to his face. Alaric, blood running down his back and dripping to the floor grasped the claw and tried to wrench free but the cybernetics were far stronger then Alaric could match. The Patriarch then drew a clawed finger down the side of Alaric's face, starting from his temple and tearing deep into his flesh as he traced Alaric's jaw to his chin. Blood dripped out of the gash as the claw passed through.

"It appears that you have disgraced your father's name." The Patriarch announced in a displeased tone, taking his claw back.

"And you have disgraced humanity, traitor." Alaric spat back.

The Patriarch chuckled in a sinister and proud tone, showing the talon that he drew down Alaric's cheek. Alaric watched as his blood dripped to the floor with loud drops.

"Humanity is a dying breed. I cast mine off years ago." The Patriarch declared.

He then raised Alaric high up and then brutally slammed him into the ground, face first. The hostages cringed in horror as they saw Alaric crumple as he hit the ground like that. Alaric lay deathly still from that impact. The Patriarch leant down and quickly examined Alaric's still body before being content in guessing that Alaric's neck had snapped on impact.

"And now Darius is truly dead." He concluded.

He then sheathed his dagger and strode back to the hostages, the air of victory around him. He stood before them. He then flinched as he felt the cut in his side. He placed his claw on his wound and felt the blood and synthetic fluid seep out.

"You monster!" a teacher shouted out. "He was a just a kid!"

The Patriarch was unrepentant.

"That is what happens to those of you who resist us." The Patriarch declared, pointing at Alaric's body behind him. "Anyone who attempts to thwart our holy work will be eliminated and denied the grace of God."

Laughter was then suddenly echoing in the hall. And it was not coming from the hostages who were staring behind the Patriarch.

The Patriarch turned and, to his utter disgust and annoyance, Alaric was picking himself up from the floor. His face dripped with his blood as he laughed in disbelief at what the Patriarch said.

"Grace of God?" Alaric laughed. "Grace of a power hungry megalomaniac is more likely."

Alaric picked himself up off the ground, spitting out blood and cracking bones back into place. He defiantly got to his feet and grabbed his axe from the floor.

The Patriarch couldn't believe his eyes. After all the crippling damage that he had been inflicting on Alaric, the boy was still living?

"What do I have to do to kill you?!" the Patriarch shouted in frustrated exasperation as he faced Alaric, his claws out stretched.

Alaric thought he had heard something lining the Patriarch's speech. It was faint, barely detectable, but it was there.

Fear.

"I'll tell you what I am, if it'll put your mind at ease." Alaric said, tearing off his shirt sleeves. His voice was taking on a deeper and resonate tone. "I am a Spartan, a man born to be the best warrior in existence. A warrior who does not fear death."

The Patriarch rolled his eyes as he aimed his pistol at Alaric. He intended to finish him off here and now with a minimal effort as possible.

"Oh, do shut up." He demanded with a confident smirk

He fired a shot from his pistol, intending to send Alaric's brain splattering through the four winds. Alaric, unerringly, dodged it in a blur. The Patriarch's grin soon left his face when he saw Alaric walking towards him.

"What?" The patriarch said in shock. "You..."

Alaric's hair started to twitch.

"You, on the other hand, are a nothing but a liar, a murderer and a fucking pathetic coward." Alaric declared. "You hide behind fancy words and your fanatical followers, willingly wasting their lives to fulfill your own vain ambitions, ambitions for a race that does not care for anything else but themselves. They see you as merely livestock ready to be culled for their next generation, nothing more."

The anger was writhing within him, begging for release, but he was keeping it under his control. The Patriarch fired another shot at Alaric. Alaric swung his axe, sparks shooting out as the bullet was pelted back at the Patriarch. A yelp came from the Patriarch as the slug tore past his head and leaving a large gash in his mask. The hostages remarked in surprise from that feat.

"Your kind nearly cost us Earth, our very existence." Alaric seethed as the ragged cuts on his face and body started to knit together. "Your kind turned your back on us, traitors to your own race."

He was going to relish the look on the Patriarch's face.

"And traitors die!" he roared, his eyes flickering momentarily into crimson orbs.

The Patriarchs fears were then realized. Alaric, despite his young age, could tap into whatever gave Darius his formidable strength. And that meant serious, and rather horrific, carnage was going to be unleashed. The Patriarch raised his pistol at Alaric.

"Impossible!" he gasped.

Alaric charged at the Patriarch, his boots pounding the floor in loud stomps with a loud battle cry and his axe held high. The Patriarch fired his pistol in quick succession, desperate to take Alaric down before he got anywhere close to him.

Alaric, as one continuous blur, evaded and parried the shots before jumping towards the Patriarch and gave a spectacular dropkick to the face. The Patriarch recoiled from that blow, sending him off balance before tumbling over into a heap. His mask went spinning through the air, dispersing into fragments as it hit the floor. Alaric landed on his feet and tackled the Patriarch before he recovered from the kick, knocking the air out form his lungs, to the ground and rolled off.

The Patriarch frantically got up, only to be met by another vicious kick to the face. This one sent him right into the middle of the hall. He clutched his face as he rose back up; the cheek that had been subjected to the crippling blow was ruptured and gushing. And the reason for the mask was shown for everyone to see. In place of eyes, there were depthless black orbs that seemed to swallow the dim lights and no eyelids to cover them. This made it seem that the eyeless visage of the xenomorphs had taken residence in the Patriarchs eye sockets.

One could only guess how his eyes could ever become like this. Did Alaric's father do this or did the Patriarch willingly do this to himself?

Alaric vaulted at the Patriarch, his axe raised and ready to cleave the fanatic in half. The Patriarch rolled out of the way, Alaric's axe biting deep into the floor where his head was and attacked with his dagger.

Both attacked and parried with their chosen blades, sparks flying from the meeting blades. The Patriarch's cybernetics allowed him to keep up with Alaric but Alaric was far more maneuverable. And Alaric was moving with ferocious speed as he attacked in frenzied rage.

Alaric was landing blows now with the Patriarch's cybernetic limbs sparking as Alaric smashed his axe into them, denting and slicing their armored frames and cracking the claws and talons. Alaric was systematically eliminating each variable in the duel so to even the odds. Every now and then, the cybernetics would seize up, giving Alaric precious seconds to inflict some real damage.

However, Alaric was in fact holding himself back. If he was to go full on, there was the risk of causing more than just one dead extremist.

That was one of his most guarded secrets that only a select few knew of.

Gotta finish him quick, Alaric thought in focus. I can't kill anyone else here.

Unfortunately, when exhaustion finally set in and Alaric couldn't keep up the momentum anymore, the Patriarch was unbelievably still standing but in a much more battered and bloodied state. His cybernetics were all cracked and dented and his bodysuit, and the flesh beneath, was littered with cuts and bleeding a combination of his own blood and synthetic fluid from his implants.

It appeared that he was more machine than man than Alaric first anticipated.

The Patriarch was surprised by Alaric's sudden stop and his surprise turned into gleeful realization. It was one thing that he learned about Darius and what his nemesis would never do.

"You can't give into your anger because of my chosen?" the Patriarch quizzed. "Ah yes, because of your father's precious honor."

Alaric was then smashed into the ground again before he could react and was now on his back as the Patriarch stood over him, with one of his taloned feet keeping Alaric pinned.

"Compassion is the weakness of the enemy." The Patriarch lectured. "One of the few weaknesses of your father."

"Better then not having a soul, you sycophantic thrall!" Alaric cursed to him.

The Patriarch laughed out loud in a commanding and possibly insane manner at Alaric condemnation.

"I will render you into a bloody stain under my feet!" The Patriarch declared, raising a taloned foot and preparing to stomp Alaric to death.

However, that was when Fate decided to think otherwise.

A bright blue flash erupted in the dark hall, stark and illuminating and the Patriarch was sent hurling over Alaric, yelling in pain and crashing into the floor as arcs of energy writhed around his body. The hostages reacted in fright from the spectacle and hit the deck, not wanting to get hit by any stray shots. Alaric saw that the fanatic's back was smoking from some sort of energized impact and the bodysuit was blasted further apart, revealing more xenomorph inspired cybernetics merged with his flesh as he writhed in pain.

Did his cybernetics just explode for no reason or did someone just shoot him?

As Alaric rolled to his knees and looked around, he could've sworn that he saw a figure in the darkness, from where the light had appeared from. He only caught a glimpse before it vanished as quickly as it appeared but it was defiantly bipedal, humanoid and surrounded by a misty blue aura. For lack of a better word, it was like a ghost.

He immediately recognized it.

"That ghost again?" Alaric whispered to himself.

He looked at the hostages, wondering if they saw it too, but it looked as if they had never noticed the ghost. They were too preoccupied with staying close to the floor with their heads down.

"Another intruder?!" The Patriarch exclaimed in pain filled anger, rolling onto his back. "What is this?!"

Alaric laughed as he got up, reinvigorated by this sudden help.

"Divine providence, you bastard!" Alaric concluded, hefting his axe up. "Where's your god now, Holy Man?"

The Patriarch had managed to shuffle to his knees, parts of his charred body suit falling off and revealing even more cybernetics in his flesh, and Alaric, realizing he may not get another chance to kill the Patriarch, seized the initiative.

Gripping his axe tight, he sprinted towards the Patriarch.

Alaric managed to flip over the Patriarch as the zealot slashed wide with his dagger and exposing himself and onto his back and got his axe's shaft around his neck. Alaric pulled for all his worth and the Patriarch's eyes bulged as he grabbed the axe's shaft and struggled to free himself. Alaric heaved backwards and the Patriarch fell, landing on top of Alaric who weathered the fall and crushing weight. Alaric quickly locked his legs around the Patriarch as the Patriarch struggled to his feet.

"Get off me!" The Patriarch choked, reaching back with one claw frantically.

Alaric stayed resolute, even as the chipped claws raked across his skin.

"What's the matter?" Alaric jeered, pulling harder. "Isn't this what your precious messiah's parasite spawn do? Choke the life out of you?!"

The Patriarch spun round sharply, trying to throw Alaric off with centrifugal force. Alaric however was still hanging on and the swinging was only choking the Patriarch further.

"I'm going to send you to hell!" the Patriarch roared.

Alaric was then finally grabbed by the neck and the Patriarch hurled him off with a hard swing, going into a twisting backwards flip. But this was what Alaric was expecting the Patriarch to do all along, and Alaric had only one chance to get this right.

_Blade of my ancestors fly swift and sure_, Alaric prayed as he gripped his axe while he flipped through the air. _So that darkness falls and light endures_.

Alaric hurled his axe in a blurring horizontal spin, the blade flickering like a comet in the light and the Patriarch, seeing the weapon of his nemesis spinning towards him and no time to dodge, tried to swat it away with his dagger.

And that was a fatal mistake.

Alaric's axe sliced through the Patriarch's dagger in a shower of sparks, both halves clattering to the floor while it embedded itself deep into his chest. Blood and synthetic fluid spurted out of his wounds, no doubt having severed the aorta and a lung as the Patriarch reeled back, yelling in choked pain.

Alaric landed in a crouch before getting up to his feet and panting hard. Blood seeped from his cuts and soaked into his clothing.

"And that's this cabal taken down." Alaric said triumphantly, wiping the blood from his mouth as he watched the life seep out of the Patriarch.

The Patriarch clutched the axe head with his fractured and battered claws, the metal appendages clattering on the blade, recognizing that this time death would not be cheated. He clenched his blood drenched teeth before pushing his damaged cybernetics towards their last destination. The Patriarch, his previous defeat of Darius still fresh and the humiliation of being defeated by his nemesis' son in his head, was determined about taking everyone with him as he forced his near lifeless body to the crate in the centre of the hall. Blood and synthetic fluid dripped down in fat globules to the floor as he approached.

Alaric was staring at this inhuman attempt with genuine surprise.

"You think you've won?" the Patriarch questioned with malice in his rasping voice. "You've only delayed the inevitable. None can stand before the divine messiahs. All will be one of their glorious collective!" He toppled onto the crate he had brought up earlier, heaving himself up and gripping it with both claws. "Starting with you!"

The Patriarch pushed the crate towards Alaric where it tumbled with him on top of it, his blood spewing over the crate as the axe drove deeper into his body, the blade rupturing out of his back.

The crate lid fell open and Alaric's eyes went wide as the students started to scream in terror and tried to get free of their bonds. Inside was a xenomorph egg and its four petal maw was opening with a sickening squelch as it sensed the presence of potential hosts. The Patriarch cackled with zealous madness as his blood poured over the crate like a crimson waterfall before he slumped down and finally died with a choked sigh.

"Shit!" Alaric cursed, sizing his options. "I forgot about those!"

Long spindly fingers writhed out of the egg's membranous insides followed by a large spider-like body and a long serpentine tail in a swell of ichors that was soon dyed red from the Patriarch's lifeblood. Some of the students were now going into full blown hysteria. Alaric knew that this was not helping their predicament one bit.

However, he then noticed that something was wrong with the parasite as it fully emerged.

"Shh!" Alaric shushed urgently to the hostages. "Stop screaming and moving!"

The hostage teachers immediately subdued the hysterical students when they realized that Alaric was indicating to the face hugger.

Looking back, Alaric could see that the face hugger was moving somewhat groggily. It pattered unevenly and out of balance, looking around the hall like it was in a sort of haze. Likely, it's still under the side effects of hypersleep within the crate. The sudden awakening meant it wasn't recuperating as fast as he feared. There was still a chance that they could get away from it. It possibly didn't know that anyone was here. Provided they don't get its attention.

The hostages kept their whimpering quiet as they saw Alaric cautiously moved towards them. Alaric carefully unlatched the teachers' bonds before allowing them to help the rest.

"Don't make any sudden moves or sounds." He softly ordered the hostages, as he slowly crept back towards the dead patriarch and keeping his eyes on the parasite. "Move slowly and get to the nearest exit, quietly. I'll deal with this."

Alaric gently searched in his pockets and pulled out a nut he had found in the vents. He threw it over the face hugger and it rattled in the distance, bouncing off some of the other crates. The parasite heard it and turned in its direction, taking a few investigative steps towards it.

Alaric, seeing his distraction was working, carefully sneaked over to retrieve his axe, keeping his steps slow and deliberate when he heard a grunt of exertion. He turned and saw that one of the bound students had managed to break free of his bonds, stood up and made a break for the main exit before the teachers could stop him. The face hugger paused when it heard the hardly light footsteps and it turned in their direction.

"Stop!" Alaric hushed. "Don't move!"

The kid paused when it saw the face hugger pattering over to investigate. Alaric was within a few feet from his axe. There was no way that he could reach it without getting the face hugger's attention. He could see that the kid was frantically eyeing the door and the face hugger, which was now showing much more interest, in turn.

He was going to run.

"Don't!" Alaric urged.

The kid, his nerve failing him, bolted for the exit and the face hugger picked him out instantly. It immediately scuttled after him, its tail coiling behind it. The other students started to scream as it homed in for the kill with increasing speed and vigor.

The facehugger, having already chosen its target, ignored them as it went for the lone and more exposed target.

The kid got to the door and was frantically trying to push it open on its handle bar. But, much to the kid's horror, the door wouldn't open. It was locked!

Alaric looked to his axe, the blood smeared blade protruding from the Patriarch's back and looked to the kid as the face hugger was getting into leaping distance.

"Damn it!" he said through gritted teeth as he made his choice.

Alaric chased after the kid, forcing himself to leave his axe behind. His conditioned body allowed him to out run the face hugger as it readied itself to pounce.

"You fool!" Alaric cursed as he threw himself into harm's way.

Alaric grabbed the kid and hurled him forcefully to the side who bounced on the floor as the face hugger leaped. Now Alaric was in the firing line as the parasite hurtled towards him. Alaric barely had time to prepare.

The face hugger soared at Alaric, fingers out stretched and ready to pin itself to his face. Alaric caught it in his hands and he fell hard backwards from its forward momentum. The tail had now reflexively whipped around his neck a sharp crack of leathery skin and was reeling him in as he bounced hard off the door, hit the floor and rolled a few feet from the exit.

That impact had managed to force the doors open, its lock breaking apart and they swung open. The kid, now seeing that the doors were now open, ran through without hesitation.

"Get out of here!" Alaric shouted, rolling away from the hostages. "Now!"

The hostages seized their chance and they bolted for the door, some as best as they could while still bound, as Alaric shuffled further away from them back to the centre of the hall.

Gotta get to my axe! He thought as he struggled.

Alaric strained as he struggled to keep the parasite from latching to his face, keeping his mouth clamped shut. Being choked by it's tail wasn't helping and the harder he tried to shove it away, the harder it was clamping down on his throat. Alaric concentrated on keeping calm and not expended any of the air in his lungs. He managed to get to his knees, but the face hugger was getting dangerously close to it's goal of implanting it's fatal spore.

Alaric worked one hand to keep it back while the other reached for it tail to try and loosen it. The parasite was now a few mere inches from his face and its proboscis was protruding from between his fingers. And it had no intention of letting go.

Alaric grimly realized that he would not be able to get his axe in time and there was only one thing he could do.

In fact, his body was starting to do it for him.

Alaric's iris' were now going crimson as his body reacted to this threat. His hair twitched into spikes and his muscles started to spasm. The face hugger was pushed back an inch or two and its tail loosened for a moment allowing Alaric to get a breath of fresh air.

I can't! He thought with difficulty as the urge to survive filled his head. Not while anyone is here.

Alaric looked to the side as he saw the last student run through the exit. Rather fortunate timing considering the circumstances. Now he could unleash his hidden secret without fear of hurting anyone else.

_Alright you little bastard!_ He thought. _Have some of this!_

He then finally unleashed his family's hidden power.

The Rage.

Alaric's eyes flashed into glowing crimson orbs, muscles bulged, his hair sprang into a crown of spikes and he struck.

Alaric tore the face hugger off from his neck with a loud roar, tearing its tail off with a loud tear of flesh and bone, acid blood spraying in an arc around him and chucking the severed appendage away before he got acid on himself. The parasite writhed in his hand as it still tried to latch on his face, regardless of its own injuries. Alaric, having had enough of this parasite, smashed his fist into it multiple times, breaking bones and internal organs inside the parasite as he roared with each punch. He then slammed into the ground and gave a final stomp that caused the twitching parasite to explode like a fat grub under his boot.

Acid blood squirted in all directions, getting onto the floor and Alaric's boot. However, in another sense of forethought, his boots were made out of acid resistant materials so he had plenty of time to unlatch his boot and remove it. He tossed the boot away, watching fall apart in the air.

Alaric stepped back and watched as the face hugger's pulped remains sank into the smoking floor, his eyes, hair and body fading back to normal. Acrid smoke wafted up and Alaric waved the fumes away, not wanting to smell it. Alaric estimated that the face hugger had now sunk six inches into the floor before its acid had lost its potency.

Alaric walked over to the dead patriarch, wiping the blood from his face, and trying not to slip on the slick floor. He roughly turned the dead fanatic over and off the crate, the corpse landing with a thud on the blood slicked floor. Alaric sharply wrenched his axe free, swung it a few times to get most of the blood and synthetic fluid off and then rested the precious relic of his father on his shoulder.

"I finished what my father started." Alaric whispered to himself, rubbing his back. "Father, Razeal, I wish you were here to see this."

Alaric then heard sirens in the distance and that told him that the police and other emergency services had now finally arrived on the scene. Alaric listened as the vehicles screeched to a stop and voices of the law enforcers securing the area before searching for hostages. Alaric took a breath and focused on all of the other crates that were scattered around the hall. All the other parasites that lay dormant.

Alaric wasn't going to let them survive and spread their pestilence.

He walked towards them, drawing his axe with a flourish and proceeded to destroy every single egg with a well aimed swing of his axe.


	20. Chapter 19

Hey everyone!

Due to over commitments, work mostly and serious brainstorming for the story, I will be posting this chapter in parts. I am trying to keep a mix of revelation and mystery without spoiling significant details. I am also going to be introducing new elements in which I have to think tactically about implementing, things that would subtly link humans with yautja and other races, giving rise to certain mythological concepts.

At any rate, stay tuned as I post the new parts and hopefully get this chapter done right.

wish me luck!

Updated 11/5/2013: Zel'tyr comforting Ja'anya

Editorial note 12/8/2013: due to my computer going for maintenance, due to a buggered power supply unit that's preventing it from starting up properly, I am concluding this chapter as it is. I've renamed the chapter and will continue on when able. Shouldn't take more than a week I hope. don't worry, most of Alaric's coming ordeal has been written so it won't take me long to resume.

* * *

><p>Chapter 19- Aftermath.<p>

The battered, exhausted initiates along with their equally battered and exhausted archangel guides finally returned to the colony after another agonizing trek for the last few kilometers. They navigated past the tunnel obstructions, the barricades, and the sentries on duty. The eyes of the colonists and marines near the tunnel observed them apprehensively after seeing just how beaten up they were and quickly realized that their expedition had not gone well. The Archangel's APC was not being driven back by them and they were missing most of their gear. Plus, most of all, that one of them was missing.

Kra'vyx was still being supported by Mal'fax and Fel'tak while Ly'enta trailed behind them. Sergei was leading the entourage and Mac was holding the rearguard, both with their swords out and resting on their shoulders.

The sentry guns that Sven had set up before their foray into the refinery beeped away as they scanned their programmed kill zones, their added bladed armor camouflaging them in the barricades composed of wreckage. They had been encoded to not fire on the initiates, who'd had their profiles added to the sentries' IFF interface as friendlies.

The two archangels lowered their swords as they reach the courtyard of the colony.

"Well, we're back at home base, finally." Sergei told the initiates as he reached his helmet's chinstrap with his free hand. "Get some rest while you can."

Mac muttered in agreement with his comrade as he reached for his own chinstrap. The initiates, on the other hand, wanted to be some place quiet, get some food in their bellies and sleep. These young Yautja had been through so much in just over the span of a single day. They'd crash landed on this barren planet of hellish ice, nearly froze to death in a snowstorm, got attacked by ungodly xenomorphs, renegade hunters, and nearly died falling down a chasm into the bowels of the planet. If that didn't qualify them for earning a hunter's title, then nothing would.

It was a tragedy that Alaric had fallen, literally, at that last hurdle.

The initiates moved off with Mal'fax now fully supporting Kra'vyx on his shoulder. Fel'tak and Ly'enta followed behind as they headed towards a hab unit that wasn't in use. Colonists gave them a wide berth as they passed.

Sergei undid his chinstrap with a click, removed his helmet, and rubbed his face on his sleeve, his matted hair furling out in sweat drenched and slightly frozen strands.

"I need a stiff drink." He said, lowering his arm.

Mac muttered in agreement to that as well.

Captain Kabowski, who was talking to Sven and foreman Hernandez about something relating to the colony, noticed them arriving and walked up with a look of relief on his face as he removed his helmet. Sven walked back off to the command centre, not before giving them a wave in greeting. Hernandez walked off to the habs before shouting out orders to a group of miners waiting nearby, who in turn ran off while shouting orders.

Colonists were now starting to move back and forth from the habs, carrying supplies and mining gear to the garages. From their body language, it appeared that the colony was preparing for some major action to occur at any moment.

"You're finally back." Andrzej expressed in relief, approaching Sergei and seeing the battered state of him and Mac. "What the hell happened back there?"

Sergei, in a fit of unleashing his pent up anger, heaved his helmet and hurled it up and over Andrzej's head as he finally let his frustration burst forth in a surprisingly calm manner. His helmet bounced off a hab wall with a loud clang, startling a nearby colonist before rolling away.

"Captain." Sergei greeted, rubbing his hands through his matted hair and keeping his temper. "It's been one ambush and another since we touched down on this FUBAR of an ice ball." he then pointed a thumb towards the initiates. "I don't know how much more shit we can take and I'm sure the same goes for them, too." He then straightened himself. "But the operation was a success, nonetheless." he added, before walking off. "The hive is sealed off...hopefully."

Sergei headed off towards the mess shed, intent on getting a drink down him. Andrzej at that point, after doing a quick head count, realized that Alaric was missing and rushed after the Russian. Mac walked after them, sheathing his katana and lifting his helmet while the initiates were busy making themselves comfortable.

"Where's Alaric?" Andrzej demanded, catching up to Sergei. "Where is he?"

"He's gone." Sergei spat out dismally. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sergei entered the shed, chucking his shaska sword with a loud ringing clatter on the nearest table. He grabbed a hot mug of coffee from a tray on the keep-hot counter before sitting down at the table with an annoyed thud. Andrzej appeared in front to him and thumped his hands down on the table in an authoritative manner. Sergei wasn't fazed by this as he reached for his belt.

"Define 'gone', Sergeant Major." Andrzej ordered in a strict tone. "What happened?"

Sergei picked out a flask of authentic Russian vodka from his belt, miraculously undamaged from the skirmish at the refinery and poured some of the cooled liquor into the mug. He then took a large gulp, the coffee partially cooled down from the alcohol didn't burn his throat, and sighed in Russian.

Drinking on duty was against army regulations but in this case, enforcing the law on Sergei when he's having a taste of his homeland would be pointless. Sergei wouldn't let anything or anyone get between him and his vodka. The last person to try, a fiercely by-the-book officer, ended up in needing a face cast from a well placed head-butt.

"Well, Mac and I were holed up in the refinery's entry, waiting for Alaric and his predator friends when we heard fighting outside the entrance to the mines." Sergei explained as Mac walked in and grabbed a mug. "Upon arriving, we saw that Alaric and the initiates were being attacked by two more of those hostile hunters, only these ones were far more deadly."

He took a breath, remembering how badly Alaric and the initiates had been faring in that fight.

"One looked like a hardened veteran, with a metal plate over one eye and wielding double bladed sickles, acted all professional while fighting Alaric, proving to be a challenging match for him." He shuddered as he started mentioning the second. "The other one, _bor_, it was a hulking monster as it knocked off the young hunters one by one." he continued. "Alaric lost it when he heard Kra'vyx cry out."

Mac pitched in as he sat down next to Sergei, who swigged more of his coffee and started muttering to himself in Russian.

"Alaric, enraged at this point, rushed to their rescue but that predator, if you could even call it that, was a demon in the way it fought." he said. "I don't know what the hell was going on with it or how it did it, but it was faster then even Alaric despite its size."

Andrzej was surprised that a Yautja could be faster than Alaric in one of his Rage episodes. He would have written it off as an overactive imagination, were it not for the earnestly in Mac's voice and Sergei's silent confirmation. Until he could actually see one in action, he would have to take it at face value.

"How?" he asked. "How can a hunter be faster then Alaric in one of his moods?"

Sergei juggled his mug in thought as he worked his memory.

"I reckon it had some sort of drug injector or something. I definitely saw it reaching for its wrist pad." he postulated. "Probably some sort of adrenaline mix, I don't know. The traits that bastard showed were increased muscle size, blurring speed and glowing eyes, almost exactly like Alaric." he shuddered. "Just the thought of them having something that could make them like Alaric is frightening."

Andrzej was somewhat concerned, and actually disturbed by this piece of information. Marines were known to have a hard enough time just trying to get an even fight against the Yautja, with the hunters' more powerful weaponry and far greater strength providing a considerable edge. But the thought of a Yautja that could actually overpower Alaric was a frightening prospect.

Mac gulped down his coffee, emptying his mug before refilling it.

"It was painful to watch." Sergei continued. "Alaric was getting the life beaten out of him by that bastard, who was tossing and smashing him around like a rag doll. He eventually lost his axes and ended up pinned against one of the cavern walls while being pummeled in the face. " he then held his thumb and index finger apart a mere inch. "Alaric was this close to being run through with its wristblades."

He lowered his hand.

"We intervened at that point, me having successfully disarmed that bastard with my rifle before that veteran flushed me out with a plasma barrage." Sergei said, gesturing to his tattered cloak. "Mac stealthed his way down, hoping for a quick decapitation from behind. Unfortunately, that veteran hunter foiled it and engaged us the both of us."

Sergei gingerly rubbed his shoulder while Mac surreptitiously rubbed his head while pretending to scratch.

"You got your asses kicked?" Andrzej questioned, knowing the answer from their body language.

Sergei gave a defeated sigh.

"Suffice to say, that hunter had more skill then the two of us combined and it dispatched Mac by backhanding him into a pile of crates." Sergei told the captain. "It was content with twisting my arm out of line and choking me instead. I honestly thought it was going to tear my head off right then and there."

Sergei paused for a moment, gulping down his most of his coffee and refilling the mug with the last of his vodka before he continued.

"Then, as if it was an act of God, something fucked up happened." Sergei added.

Andrzej looked at Sergei with a frown that showed how incredulous that event sounded to him.

"Fucked up?" He asked. "What can be possibly more fucked up then a rampaging predator that can pummel an enraged Alaric?"

"You might want to sit down, Sir." Mac warned.

Andrzej sat down opposite them, resting his hands on the table like a police interrogator.

"Well?" the captain asked. "What is this fucked up thing?"

Sergei looked over his shoulders to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. It was blatantly obvious that this was to be between the three of them. Sergei paused as he thought of the best way to explain what happened at the refinery that turned the tide of the fight. He then motioned Andzrej to leaned a bit closer, who complied with some skeptical anticipation.

"Alaric changed." Sergei said, not able to think of how to explain.

Andrzej, having gone through all kinds of complicated explanations in his head, was at a loss from those two words. He thought that Sergei was messing with him.

"Changed?" Andrzej questioned with puzzlement lacing his tone. "What do you mean, changed?"

"He just changed. I don't know how but he changed." Sergei said, shrugging his shoulders.

"'He went berserk again, didn't he?" Andrzej guessed in a cynical tone, sitting up.

Mac coughed at his superior's question. Not as an insult but more of a correction.

"Berserk? I don't think berserk is the right word, Sir." he said, loosening his collar. "What we saw couldn't be humanly possible. He just...went way beyond that edge."

Andrzej at this point was now concerned. Now, even Mac was acting strange about Alaric.

"Explain." Andrzej ordered to the both of them. "In your own way and time."

Sergei juggled his coffee, watching the lightened liquid ripple inside the mug. Mac rubbed the tattoos under his eyes.

Where do they begin? How do they explain the unexplainable?

Sergei was the one to tell the story.

"Well, I couldn't see too well, what with being strangled and all. First, I heard Alaric shout in a voice that... didn't seem to be his." Sergei started, concentrating on using the correct wording. "When I got a better view, in other words when the veteran hunter actually stopped choking me, Alaric had just kicked that brute of a predator clean off him and he was... different." Sergei then pointed at parts of his body, describing how Alaric changed. "His eyes went almost, like... glowing with luminescence like auroras or something. And these weird glowing lines had... bled through his skin like tattoos. Almost like white hot fire was burning within him."

Andrzej was perplexed and skeptical from what Sergei said. How could glowing lines suddenly appear someone's skin? He knew that Alaric's eyes could go bright whenever he was angry, but this was something else.

"Perplexing." Andrzej said. "Continue."

Sergei sat back, juggling his mug in his hand.

"That predator was excited when it saw that Alaric was still fighting, although for some reason Alaric refused to use his big axe, simply tossing it over to where the others were." Sergei recalled before giving a slight laugh. "The bastard lunged back at him, kept trying to hit Alaric but... Alaric was like a ghost. The predator just couldn't hit him even though Alaric was basically standing still." He then smirked. "Alaric on the other hand, was hitting that bastard and hitting him hard. And by hitting him hard, I mean like a dropship screaming through the atmosphere hard."

Sergei then told Andrzej about the whole fight, giving lengthy and vivid details of every blow and maneuver he saw Alaric perform. Andrzej listened on, taking in every detail he could about Alaric's sudden and unexpected victory over the Yautja. Mac was silently drinking from his mug and nodding with Sergei, confirming Sergei's recalling and pointing out what he saw from inside the crate wreckage that he used as a sanctuary.

Andrzej's skepticism simultaneously grew and shrunk as he heard Sergei's oration. He had seen Alaric fight on many occasions, and the many 'creative' methods the SAS trooper used. But the things he was hearing, Alaric lifting a heavy metal girder like a baseball bat, crushing armor plating with his elbow and tossing the predator around like trash, was stretching his boundaries.

The captain was half wondering if the lack of oxygen to Sergei's brain was causing him to hallucinate.

"And to top it all off, Alaric nailed the bastard to the central platform with its own wristblades through the shins and then tore both arms off at the elbows." Sergei finished, taking a breath.

Andrzej was taken aback from what he had heard. He knew that Alaric could inflict serious damage in one of his moods, snapping bones like twigs and such, but this was a new one for him. He had never seen Alaric dismember anyone or anything with his bare hands. Pull joints out and break bones definitely, but never anything like this.

"He tore that predator's arms off with his bare hands?" Andrzej asked

"He sure did. You should've heard the yell the bastard made." Mac added.

Andrzej leaned back in his chair in thought.

"Oh, we were wondering what that faint echo was." Andrzej remarked before resuming his questioning. "What happened next?"

"Then, as sudden as it happened, Alaric reverted back to normal." Sergei concluded. "His eyes dimmed, the lines on his skin faded away and his voice went back to normal."

Andrzej leaned forward.

"Just like that?" he asked, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

"My guess is he used up whatever he'd stored up and was drawing on." Mac suggested.

"No doubt he would have finished the bastard off right there but the charges had detonated by then." Sergei revealed. "That diversion had cost them precious time and, deciding that getting his friends back to safety was more important, Alaric relinquished from killing the brute and went to gather them. The veteran let me go to tend to its goon while Mac and I regrouped with Alaric."

"How did you get back?" Andrzej questioned.

"We made our way back to the colony via the most direct, but notoriously agonizing, route. Through the network of fissures." Sergei continued. "We tried questioning Alaric about this but he was being vague. Apparently He didn't even know what had happened to him."

"So, Alaric didn't know what happened to him?" Andrzej queried.

"He said it was like something had... awakened." Mac explained. "He said he heard his... ancestors in his head. But as for the glowing lines, your guess is as good as ours."

Andrzej sat back in his seat, rubbing the scar on his cheek in thought.

"Well, this whole incident is getting somewhat... strange, to be sure." he stated, lowering his hand. "What happened to Alaric though?

Sergei sighed and rubbed his face.

"That ice bridge I recorded on my previous recon runs." Sergei explained, resting himself onto his elbows. "Well, we were crossing it, and trying not to make the whole thing shatter under our feet, when something ruined our trek. Against all logical understanding, one of those hostile Yautja that we thought Alaric had killed showed up, half dead with the amount of damage it sustained."

He tapped his fingers on the table.

"It and Alaric had an exchange of words in the alien tongue. I don't know what they were saying but Alaric was pretty pissed from what I could tell." he resumed. "The hunter then injected himself with something that made him go completely psycho like a rabid dog, and attacked Alaric." he paused, taking another gulp from his mug. "Regrettably, the bridge collapsed during the fighting and, despite trying to help, Alaric fell, taking that bastard with him. We just barely managed to not follow him down."

Andrzej looked to Mac for confirmation on Alaric's fate and only got a silent nod in reply. The captain held a hand to his head and sighed in exasperation.

"Alaric, MIA. _Pieprzy_, It couldn't have come at a worse time." he sighed, before straightening himself. "Well, I just hope he managed to somehow survive the fall."

Sergei took another gulp from his mug. Peering down, he saw that he had drank the whole mug of his vodka and he dumped it on the table with a loud clatter before getting up and grabbing a coffee jug

"Even if there is a chance he survives a fall like that, he won't know how to get back here." Sergei skeptically pointed out, refilling his mug. "That chasm was bottomless as far as I could tell. He could be falling into the planet's core by now."

"Best not to think about the negatives and just focus on the positives." Mac proposed, taking a swig from his mug before Sergei refilled it. "Even if they are few and far between." he added with dread.

Andrzej rubbed his face. He went over the chances of survival for the remaining colonists and his squad. Even with the initiates to help them, though in their current state it couldn't be much, they had lost Alaric who was hands down their best fighter. So far, no ship, be it human or Yautja had responded to the distress beacon.

His calculations of anyone getting off this ice planet alive were now slim to none. He might was well start making crosses for the squad at this point.

"How are the young hunters taking it?" he asked, lowering his hand.

Sergei got up, walked to the doorway of the hab and looked out to the initiates as they sat around a fire drum and went about getting comfortable for a well needed nap. Kra'vyx, cleaned up and sitting by the drum, was evidently still depressed from Alaric's loss as told from his drooped shoulders and mandibles. Mal'fax and Fel'tak were gingerly rubbing healing salve on their bruised heads from Qul'dan's head clapping. Ly'enta was curled up on a matt with her back facing them, covered with one of their improvised cloaks. Whether she was sleeping or not, he couldn't tell.

"Well, Kra'vyx was really distressed by the whole ordeal." Sergei said, walking back and sitting back down. "The others took it pretty well, more or less."

"I suppose they're hungry after that mess." Mac added, before getting up.

Mac went about getting one of the large pots of stew that were bubbling away on the stoves. He grabbed a tray and put some bowls on before placing the tray on top of the pot and then lifted the pot by its handles. Mac then went out to give the initiates their meal, keeping the tray balanced on top.

"Can't have Alaric's friends getting weak." Mac said, pausing by the table to retrieve his mug and placing in on the tray. "We're going to need them."

Mac walked out of the hab, leaving Sergei and Andrzej at the table. Andrzej rapped his fingers against the table in thought while Sergei was busy making ripples in his mug. It was only when Mac left the hab that Andrzej spoke his mind.

"Alaric's involvement with these hunters is getting suspiciously strange." Andrzej said, making a repetitive rapping with his fingers. "Alaric isn't one to be friendly with anyone he distrusts."

Sergei looked up at his superior.

"What are you insinuating, sir?" he asked.

Andrzej stopped rapping his fingers, tilting his eyes towards the sniper.

"Well... thinking further, regarding the hunter's reactions to his loss. It's like he is now..." he started.

At that point, Hicks came walking into the hab typing into his datapad, his smartgun holstered on his back. Andrezj quickly stopped talking. Hicks' cheerful demeanor was a stark contrast to the dour faces that looked to him.

"Oh, was I interrupting something, captain?" he asked, apologetically before noticing Sergei. "Saitsev, you look like shit."

Andrzej quickly shook his head. Sergei merely shrugged at his comrade's observation.

"No, nothing important." Andrzej said. "What is it, Hicks?"

Hicks, sensing that his superior was hiding something, raised a fist to his mouth and coughed.

"Captain, the storms have subsided and Sven says the relay is now at maximum strength." he reported as he showed his pad to his superior. "Won't be long before we get some assistance." he added with hope.

Andrzej looked at the screen and saw from observation posts on the surface that the storms had ended and there was only a light flurry of snow drifting down from the dark clouds that blotted out the sky.

Andrzej was inwardly relieved that the storms had finally died but this did little to alleviate Alaric's loss. Even though the relay may have a clear signal now, it would take time for potential rescuers to intercept the beacon and come. Time that may not be present if the xenomorphs attacked again in force.

"Captain, this _is_ good news." Hicks pointed out, noting his superior's unchanged demeanor.

"Well, we have serious bad news to counter that." Sergei interjected before Andrzej could answer. "Alaric is MIA."

The news surprised Hicks to a point where he dropped his pad onto the table with a loud thud that made the screen flicker.

"What?" Hicks asked in stunned disbelief, picking up and examining it for any damage. "Are you serious?"

"Exactly as Sergei said." Andrezj verified. "Alaric is MIA."

Hicks thought for a second and made an educated guessed on how Alaric went missing. Taking into account the quickest route back from the refinery. And the most hazardous phase of that journey.

"Ice bridge?" he asked, apprehensively.

"Da." Sergei confirmed.

Hicks hissed through his teeth at the thought of plummeting down a cold, dark abyss.

"Christ, I don't know how he'll get out of that one." Hicks said, walking back out before stopping. "What should I tell the others?" he asked back.

"I'll brief them at a later time." Andrzej stated. "Continue with your duties, Scribe."

Hicks nodded and walked off. Sergei gulped another mouthful of coffee.

"What about Kelso?" he asked, changing the subject. "Has he kicked it, yet?"

Andrzej got up, walked to the doorway and looked to the hab that was used as a makeshift hospital. Dubois was inside tending to the wounded as best she could with what little supplies were left. Sergeant Kelso in question was laying on a cot wrapped in bandages and plastic sheeting to prevent infection from setting in and hooked to a respirator and med-unit. He was still unconscious, having been heavily sedated and his vitals were low but stable.

"Still no change, but we doubt he'll make it through the day." Andrezj stated, walking back. "That explosion at the refinery really screwed him over."

"How bad?" Sergei asked.

"Aside from second degree burns and concussive damage..." Andrzej started, reaching for his cloak.

Andrezj then pulled out a ragged bit of shrapnel from under his cloak. It was roughly six inches in length and twisted into a drill-shaped curl. The fragments of red paint, partially obscured by the dried blood encrusted on it, indicated that it was from the barrels that Kelso had the misfortune to hide beside.

"Dubois managed to remove this, barely, from his back." Andrzej finished, dropping it on the table with a clatter. "It was stopped just short of his abdominal aorta by his armor."

Sergei winced at the thought of having twisted shrapnel removed from his flesh as he drank from his mug.

"Exactly my reaction." Andrzej admitted, pointing to his scar. "Citing previous experience, of course."

Sergei then brought up an issue that had been nagging him during the trek back.

"Did any of those bugs attack the colony before we arrived?" Sergei questioned, lowering his mug. "We're damn lucky that we didn't stumble into any on the way back."

Andrzej straightened his cloak.

"They came but they kept out of range of the sentry guns." he revealed. "No doubt they were testing the perimeter again. They left shortly before you arrived."

Sergei stood up, mug in hand.

"How many did you detect, Captain?" he asked.

"Motion trackers picked up only six, the same ones that pounced us at the refinery." Andrzej answered. "Who knows how many more stragglers are out there? But in any case, that's not good in any sense. We doubled the patrols and surveillance just in case." he then readjusted one of his gloves. "My guess as to why they didn't attack you is that they want everyone in one place."

"If the bugs attack us again in force, we won't last five minutes." Sergei pointed out. "Those hunters aren't even rested after the whole shit-storm at the refinery."

Andrzej brushed off his marksman's negative prediction.

"We've been making preparations to leave in the event that help does arrive or the case of an emergency evacuation." Andrzej revealed, standing up. "We got refinery trucks being modified into personnel carriers with additional armor plating and mining gear for defense.

"Da?" Sergei questioned in his native tongue. "And these trucks will stand up to those bastards."

"Come this way and see for yourself."

Andrzej led Sergei out, the Russian taking a last gulp from his mug before thumping it on the table and picking up his shaska sword and sheathing it.

Andrzej led Sergei to the garages and the sniper could see the preparations for himself.

The trucks in question were medium class half-tracked ore transporters that had been jury rigged into armored personnel carriers. The load basins were being converted into passenger compartments, with protection being more important than comfort, with the addition of improvised sloped armor plating with sliding portholes for various tools serving as point defense weaponry. Smaller trucks were being configured into light attack vehicles with improvised armor and mining flamers mounted on rail mounts on the cabins

In a historical way, they resembled the armored vehicles of the second world war.

Sven, rather comically wearing a large piece of damp cloth around his face to protect his beard, was on top of a truck and busy directing a group of mechanics, welding large snow ploughs to the front of the vehicles before dropping down to help them. Hicks was helping in mounting the mining tools to their mounts from inside the compartments and aiming down the sights.

"Well, that is reassuring." Sergei praised mildly, before looking into one of the hangers and his eyes went wide. "Is that a tank?!" he asked in shock.

The tank in question was a modified tracked heavy class transporter that had been welded top to bottom in heavy sloped armor plating and a large fixed turret on top. Sponson turrets were on the sides, evoking the image of tanks of the first world war. The main eye catcher was the massive, if somewhat improvised cannon that was housed in the turret.

The cannon was a much larger vehicle mounted variant of the boltgun that was used for major excavation work where power prioritizes over precision. This piece of equipment was designed to hurl high explosive bolts and other specialist types of projectiles deep into cliff faces and detonate from the inside. The bolts can easily punch through thirty feet of stone and then level said stone to rubble.

From the look of it, this piece of equipment had been converted into a weapon as the magnetic safety regulators for the rail coils were removed. Now when the cannon goes off, its bolts would punch through anything at maximum velocity, no matter what cover is used. But then again, Sergei could also see that improvised cooling units were attached so that the cannon had a cost to its power.

"Where did you find a cannon that big?" Sergei asked in disbelief, turning to his captain.

"Found it in one of the warehouses at the refinery." Andrzej revealed. "We're lucky that it was in one piece, more or less."

"Does it even work?" Sergei pointed out.

"Do you see us testing it here?" Andrzej questioned. "Besides, it's good for morale to show that we got some serious firepower."

Mac at that point had just arrived on the scene, cradling his mug in his hands.

"Well, the young hunters are fed and resting." he told them before seeing the array of vehicles. "And you guys have been busy since you got back."

"Check out the tank." Sergei pointed out, pointing a finger.

Mac saw it and gave a few choices words in Japanese.

"Better we make and have an escape plan while we have the chance to do so." Andrzej said. "We can't rely on the hunters alone. They may do well against several of those bugs, when working together on a single target, but not a whole swarm."

"I just hope they get some of their strength back." Mac commented. "We're gonna need them."

"Considering how much they eat, they'd better." Sergei pointed out.

Sven finished the plough he was welding and walked up to the makeshift tank, his tools rattling on his belt. He examined the welds, content that his handiwork was up to his standards. He turned around and gestured his comrades to come closer.

"What do you think?" Sven asked, proudly banging the plating with his fist as they approached.

The tank's armor plating was a solid three inches thick, with the addition of being sloped, that should help increase effectiveness against enemy attack.

Andrzej walked up and examined the handiwork of his comms-officer. Sven had the touch of a skilled craftsman when it came to building and repairing things. The Norwegian didn't care much for decoration but rather chose the utilitarian approach. Making something that gets the job done, nothing fancy to it.

"Think they'll hold?" Andrezj questioned.

Sven, rather predictably, just burst out laughing in a loud rowdy manner worthy of a Viking before abruptly stopping. Mechanics looked at him perplexedly before resuming their work.

"Not for long." Sven admitted in a hushed tone. "But should hold long enough in case we have to bail." he then gave another thump on the plating. "Something I hope we don't have to do." he pointed at the tank's cannon. "This baby on the other hand will give those bastards pause for thought." he then reached inside a hatch that was open and pulled out a bolt that was a foot long and two inches wide. "When this fires, these bolts will punch through anything, no matter what armor is between it and the target. Then, BOOM! No more target."

"It is able to fire?" Sergei asked, hoping for a straight answer

Sven rolled his eyes and muttered in his native tongue as he chucked the bolt back inside the tank with a loud clang. It was evident that he had been getting that question since fitting the tank.

"Sergei, Hernandez said that this model was half finished when the bugs attacked and we had to improvise most of the repairs and modifications." Sven cautioned. "I'd rather not wear it out before we need to use it."

"So, we have, potentially, a bomb on our hands." Sergei surmised. "Well, as long as it take a few bugs with it, I won't complain."

Andrzej rapped his fingers as an idea popped into his head.

"Karlson, rig up some mounts for the sentry guns on the lead and rear vehicles." he ordered "We're taking everything of use when we leave and they'll make good as early warning detectors."

"Yes, captain." Sven answered, reaching for his tools.

Sven moved off, shouting the new orders to the mechanics. Hicks stepped out of the transport he was in and went about mounting another bolt-gun, hefting it up on his shoulder and jogging to the next emplacement. Mac stepped up to the captain and discreetly tapped him on the back.

"What about Alaric, Captain?" Mac asked in a hushed tone. "He could make it back, you know."

Andrzej took a breath, remembering his past experiences in fighting alongside Alaric, recalling how stubborn Alaric could be and made his decision.

"We'll hold here as long as we can before we make a move, give him time to get back." he decided. "If Alaric isn't back by then... well, he'll manage. He always does."

Sergei scratched the stubble on his chin.

"Do you still think Alaric will make it back?" Sergei asked. "Even if he has literally fallen into the deepest circle of hell?"

Andrzej merely nodded.

"If there 's something Alaric knows, it's how to adapt, survive and cheat death." Andrzej told him.

* * *

><p>Back on Lai'kairis, morning was also abound and the clans of Lai'kairis were going about their morning routines and activities. Hunters were preparing to gather more worthy trophies for their collections. Traders and craftsman were opening their booths and arranging their wares. And children were being ushered off to the caregivers, all the while playing Alaric the Slayer as they went.<p>

In all respects, it was just like any other day on Lai'kairis.

Zel'tyr was walking along the streets to her daughter's home to see how Ja'anya was doing. She knew that Ja'anya was worried almost sick about Alaric and Kra'vyx, Alaric especially. Zel'tyr herself was concerned over Kra'vyx. Her son was one of the few physical reminders of her deceased mate.

Kra'vyx looked much like his father, having the same markings, eyes, and complexion but without the restraint that Kra'vyn possessed. That was also said for his lacking skill at medicine and his knack of getting injured. But, Kra'vyx had his father's heart and that is what mattered most.

Kal'deris had been doing all that he could to figure out what could have happened to Kra'vyx and his friends but so far there was very little to be found. The patrol ships that were sent to investigate had reported last night with no results. They could find no trace of shuttle Alpha. Kal'deris had merely ordered them to double their efforts and keep looking, even though some of his fellow Elders were showing doubts on ever finding them.

Kal'deris, as Ja'anya's and Kra'vyx's guardian and foster father, vowed not to stop until the initiates have been found. Alive or dead.

During her trek to Ja'anya's, Zel'tyr had overheard the latest gossip. The news of the missing initiates had spread throughout Lai'kairis, rather quickly with everyone having their own guess of what might have happened. The families of the missing initiates were coping in their own ways. Mostly venting their frustrations on Kal'deris.

Those who greeted Zel'tyr offered their condolences towards her son, though none was given to Alaric. And there were somewhat harsh whispers that she overheard from bigoted traditionalists who were glad that Alaric was finally gone from Lai'kairis. The Lore Master in particular was open in his glee that Alaric was gone.

Alaric might have been accepted into the clan, but many of the people hadn't accepted him.

A few were even openly saying that they hoped Alaric was dead, and graphically mauled in addition. And some of those declarations came from a few of Alaric's defeated sparring partners, no doubt from the thought of being beaten by a human. One drunken hunter had the audacity to say it right in Zel'tyr's face as she passed a small tavern, with a dash of venom towards her daughter. She then promptly knocked out the inebriated bigot with one well placed, jewelry ornamented punch. In a sober state of mind, everyone knew not to get pushy with the veteran huntress.

Zel'tyr, who originally came from a clan of renowned hunters before settling on Lai'kairis, had little time for fools. Especially less for bigots who insult her family. Kinship was very important to her.

She arrived at her daughter's home shortly after that incident, tidying her rings and her dreadlocks as she walked up to the door. She imagined Ja'anya would be up and about at this time.

"Ja'anya." Zel'tyr called, knocking on the door and calling on the intercom

There was no reply. Zel'tyr waited for a few seconds before trying again.

"Ja'anya?" she called.

There was still no answer. Zel'tyr knocked again but got nothing. She put her head up against the door, listening for her daughter. She waited for a few moments, expecting to hear activity inside and heard nothing. Concerned, she silently opened the door with her key and stepped inside before shutting it.

Zel'tyr looked around for her daughter but she wasn't in the living space or in the kitchen getting her breakfast. It would appear that Ja'anya wasn't around. She must still either be in bed sleeping or had left earlier this morning than usual to go about her daily routine. Thinking the latter and considering the former, Zel'tyr turned back to the door and was about to leave to find her daughter around Lai'kairis when her huntress hearing detected faint sobbing.

And it was coming from Ja'anya's bedroom.

"Ja'anya?" she whispered, concern lacing her voice.

Zel'tyr walked to the bedroom door and slid it open. She saw in the dark after her eyes adjusted that Ja'anya was indeed still in bed. But she wasn't asleep. Zel'tyr saw that Ja'anya was curled up in her bed, her head buried in a pillow and the sobs that were heard were coming from her.

Zel'tyr sighed in sympathy for her daughter.

"Oh, no." she whispered, stepping inside as she shut the door and turned the light on. "Not the nightmare again."

She walked over and sat softly on the bed before reaching over to her daughter and laying a jewelry ornamented hand on her shoulder. Ja'anya shot her head up from the damp pillow in surprise and Zel'tyr saw her sore, tear soaked eyes blinking in the light. That was enough confirmation as Ja'anya looked up at her mother.

"Mother?" she croaked.

"It's alright." Zel'tyr assured comfortingly. "I'm here."

Ja'anya huddled up to her mother and Zel'tyr wrapped her arms around her. Ja'anya sobbed into her mother's shoulder, clasping her so tightly that her talons were digging into her mothers back.

"Shh, it's alright." Zel'tyr comforted, not bothered in the slightest about being clawed.

To Ja'anya, nothing was all right.

"The nightmares." Ja'anya cried.

'_It figures'_, Zel'tyr thought.

"Alaric was in them." Ja'anya continued. "Something has happened to him, I know it!"

Zel'tyr was somewhat surprised from what Ja'anya said. These nightmares only involved Kra'vyn but now Alaric was in them? She concluded what was going on.

"Ja'anya, look at me." she softly ordered.

Ja'anya lifted her head and met her mothers comforting gaze.

"Listen to me." Zel'tyr said, wiping her daughter's tears with her thumbs. "We don't know anything of what might have happened to Alaric. Nightmares are only reflections of fear. They only come if you allow that fear to take a hold of you."

This was one of many lessons that Zel'tyr preached about to initiate hunters.

"I know that, but it felt so real." Ja'anya replied. "I thought... I..."

Zel'tyr stopped, lowering her hands.

"You thought...?" she asked.

Ja'anya gulped before she brought up the climax.

"I was covered in Alaric's blood." Ja'anya wept. "A bad omen!"

Zel'tyr blinked at her daughter's nightmare.

Ja'anya and Alaric, who wouldn't know the significance of it, did indeed share a deep bond to each other. Perhaps deeper than Zel'tyr had first expected.

It is said, according to the priestesses, that those who are bound by fate to become life mates would form a powerful bond to each other, able to sense one and the other. It was a rare occurrence in a society such as the Yautja where polygamy, polyandry and, in some cases, multiple mates of either sex was the norm.

Only the gods could forge such a bond between mortals.

"Are you sure?" Zel'tyr asked.

Ja'anya looked up at her mother and tears started to well in her eyes.

"Yes, I'm certain. I wouldn't be like this if I wasn't!" Ja'anya answered, rubbing her eyes.

_'Foreboding'_, Zel'tyr thought. _'Hmm, the Priestesses could help unveil this.'_

She looked to her daughter.

"What was your nightmare about?" she questioned.

Ja'anya was hesitant to recall the nightmare that had plagued her all night. But her mother helped calm her from the nightmares in the past. So this shouldn't be any different.

"Me and Alaric were... together."Ja'anya revealed, keeping her erotic feelings for Alaric to a minimum. "I was in his arms, in his embrace and suddenly he was... devoured by dark shadows, cold as the depths of the dark Void." She slightly shivered from the mere thought of it. "His blood then... I was in a deluge of his blood, screaming."

"Was there anything else?" Zel'tyr queried.

"No, I woke up by that point and I'm glad for it." Ja'anya answered, lowering her head.

'_Alaric devoured by cold darkness?'_ Zel'tyr thought, trying to make sense of it. _'And losing his blood in a deluge? What could it mean?'_

Ja'anya then looked up to her mother, a flicker of hope shining in her eyes.

"Did Kal'deris find anything about Alaric and Kra'vyx?" she asked, hope lining her tone. "Did they find anything?"

Zel'tyr shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, my daughter." Zel'tyr answered. "Kal is doing everything he can in the meantime."

Ja'anya's head drooped from the news.

"What if they just..." she said, choking with emotion. "I don't know how... I can't handle both Alaric and Kra'vyx gone!"

Zel'tyr held her close. Ja'anya buried her face again.

"Ja'anya, it will be alright." she repeated. "Alaric, of all the people we know, would not let anything stop him, from getting Kra'vyx and his friends back to Lai'kairis." Zel'tyr assured. "No matter how impossible it may seem. The gods must have a plan set for him." She then gave small sigh of fortune. "When you found him and he saved you from Sil'cais, I felt then, that it was more than just chance that brought you two together."

Zel'tyr then put on a serious tone as she released Ja'anya.

"But, there has been talk among the clan. Some of them are glad that Alaric is gone." she revealed, illustrating the seriousness of what she heard. "I already punished of one such offender, after a rather personal insult about you."

Ja'anya looked back up.

"Such as?" she asked.

Zel'tyr sighed as she recalled what that drunken bigot described her daughter.

"Prey-Whore." she revealed with disgust.

That was a derogatory name, one of many, aimed towards Yautja who had... relationships with humans by race purists. Such relations were few and far between, considering the Yautja's general view towards humans as nothing but prey to be hunted were a factor against such relationships. And to be intimate with one was seen as betrayal to their race.

In some pure race clans, the punishment is death.

Ja'anya, though knowing the severity of the name, wasn't insulted at all. In fact, she was angry.

"I don't care what they call me. Alaric is my friend and lover!" she declared hotly.

She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth as she let slip that little detail. Zel'tyr was taken aback from that little slip of Ja'anya's mind but she quickly rebounded. With a mischievous touch.

"So, you two...?" Zel'tyr questioned with a smirk.

Ja'anya blushed profusely and lowered her head and hand in embarrassment. Her mother, though her exterior indicated otherwise, could be very playful and somewhat 'suggestive' when it suited her. Mostly for poking someone where it really gets them.

"No, we haven't... bonded in that way, yet." she admitted. "I almost let myself get carried away but Alaric convinced me otherwise."

Zel'tyr innocently rolled her eyes.

"Well, it wasn't Season yet was it?" she pointed out before shrugging. "Still, no harm in experimenting before hand."

"Mother!" Ja'anya gasped, somewhat shocked at what her mother was insinuating.

Zel'tyr chuckled at her daughter's reaction, succeeded in getting Ja'anya's focus away from her nightmare, before noticing Ja'anya's neck. The skin around her collarbone was chaffed and dry with skin starting to flake, almost to the point of bleeding. She quickly concluded that Ja'anya had not removed her sheildhawk amulet all night. The bronze and silver bird nestled between her breasts, glinting in the light.

"Your neck is raw, Ja'anya. Almost bleeding." She said, before reaching for the amulet. "You should take this off for a while."

Ja'naya's reaction was not what Zel'tyr was expecting.

"No!" Ja'anya resisted firmly, holding the sheildhawk close to her and shuffling toward the head of the bed abruptly. "I'm not taking it off."

Zel'tyr lowered her hand and tapped the mattress a few times with her talons.

"Ja'anya." she scolded lightly.

Ja'anya looked down at her amulet as she cradled it delicately in her cupped hands.

"Alaric made this for me." she reminded, tracing the hawk's feathers with her fingers. "With his own hands. And if he's gone...this would be all I have of him."

Zel'tyr sighed. Ja'anya may have her father's heart but she had Zel'tyr's stubbornness.

"At least take it off to rub some salve on your neck." Zel'tyr advised.

She then slid off the bed.

"Come on." Zel'tyr said, helping her daughter out of her bed. "Work is the best cure for grief." She sighed. "We should know."

She handed Ja'anya her robe from the wardrobe, who donned it and hissed softly when the fabric rubbed her neck.

"You should go freshen yourself up first." Zel'tyr said.

Ja'anya then walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her while Zel'tyr went about tidying the bed.

Ja'anya walked up to the mirror and took in her reflection.

She saw the dark circles under her sore eyes and idly wondered how much sleep she managed to get. She reckoned that she only had three or four hours at most. She also saw that her mother was right about her neck. She gently rubbed her neck, feeling how rough her skin had become. Any harder and she risked bleeding.

'_Look at me,'_ she thought as she rubbed under her eyes. _'I'm a mess.'_

She decided to take a shower to put her mind at ease. She slid off her robe, hanging it on a hook before stepping in. She hissed as the water hit her neck, tweaking the temperature a bit and she then began cleaning herself. Her shieldhawk pendant glittered in the mist filled light as she reached for the soap.

As she carefully lathered her neck, ignoring the burning sensation erupting around her neck, her thoughts returned to Alaric, Sharing the shower with her and lathering her neck. That in turn took her to their final night together. She inwardly smiled at the thought of being in his arms, him nuzzling her neck. And she nuzzling him in return.

And she once again felt a tingle between her legs as she leaned over and rested her arms on the wall, closing her eyes and sighing. The water cascaded down her back and dreadlocks. The sheildhawk pendant was awash in soapy water, causing it to sparkle white and gold in the light.

Ja'anya regretted not consummating her love to Alaric. But his promise to her echoed within her mind.

_"We'll make it back, Ja'anya. That's a promise."_

Tears once more filled her eyes, masking well with the shower water pouring over her.

Alaric, Ja'anya prayed with all her heart. Please come back to me.


	21. Chapter 20

Hey, my beloved fans!

if you thought this story was dead you're sadly mistaken. other things have been getting in the way, Rome Total War II for one (GO SPARTA!) and planetside 2 GO NC!) for another, and mustn't forget about working after all. but I have finally gotten this chapter out, and maintained my sanity on writing what needed to be written.

Anyway, we finally return to Alaric and what he has literally fallen into. and this is where things start to get weird as he delves into the ancient past, somewhat unintentionally.

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>Chapter 20- Visions of a lost age.<p>

Alaric in the meantime, unbeknown to everyone's expectations or fears, had reached the bottom of his hellish descent and was laying half buried in a large mound of a past snowdrift, unconscious and battered. The fall down the abyss, and the falling brawl with the kill crazed hunter, had taken a toll on his already battle wounded body. The snow around his battered body was dyed a dark red from the blood that had seeped from his now sealed wounds, sealed by his body or by the freezing snow, from the Hish hunter.

Alaric's unnatural skill and stubbornness at avoiding death came through again.

His armour had taken the brunt of the fall, sparking from cracks and exposed power lines but precariously still attached to their over abused fittings. This, added with his enhanced endurance when in Rage, combined with the thick snow cover at the bottom of the fall had served to soften the impact so that his injuries on landing were minimal to an extent.

His hand axes were scattered to his sides at haphazard angles. It had been a miracle that he hadn't been insultingly killed by his own axes on landing. Alaric's plasma casters on the other hand were completely destroyed in the tumbling scuffle and were nothing more then sparking stumps, illuminating him in brief flickers of blue light. Razeal was a few feet from him at the bottom of the mound, the hand grip sticking out of the snow.

Alaric was deathly still and unmoving, appearing to be frozen from the cold. Then, after what seemed like hours since impact, he started to twitch as his mind came back to the present. Away from the dream cascading through his mind.

_Alaric was floating in a cold dark void. His battered and ice encrusted form drifted along the dark currents, blood droplets and sparks from his armor drifting along behind him. He groggily opened his eyes, breaking the ice that had sealed them. He could see nothing but darkness, although his body was perfectly visible as he took in his battered form. He looked around, trying to find some semblance of direction. He couldn't find any. In this void, there was no direction and no semblance of environment or gravity. Only emptiness._

_Where... where am I? He thought groggily._

_He looked at his battered body, noting the damage his armor had taken and the frozen blood caked on the plating and his skin._

_Well, he thought. I've seen better days._

_It was at that point that Alaric heard a faint whispering coming from around him. It was indistinct at first but the voice sounded familiar. And when it was finally loud enough, Alaric recognized it._

_Ja'anya? He thought with ominous surprise._

_From the darkness, an apparition of Ja'anya appeared forth. She was dressed in her flowing gown that seemed almost ethereal against her dark body. She looked almost like a ghost. Her head was down cast, masking her face from view._

"_Ja'anya?" Alaric asked. "How..."_

_Ja'anya looked up at Alaric and Alaric could see and feel the heartbreak that was now etched on Ja'anya's face and in her very soul._

_You never came back." she spoke, emotion choking her. "You and Kra'vyx never came back."_

_Oh god, Alaric thought as he realized what was going on. Not another nightmare!_

_Glowing tears started to seep from her eyes and run down her cheeks._

"_First Father... now you." Ja'anya grieved as tendrils of the void enveloped her. _

"_Ja'anya?!" Alaric yelled, reaching out to her._

_The apparition of Ja'anya was consumed into the darkness. The tears broke apart, glinting like stars before they faded into the inky darkness._

_Alaric held his head and clenched his eyes tight, trying to wake up from this nightmare._

_For god sake, wake up, Alaric thought hard to himself. Wake up!_

_He could then a hear a faint cry coming from all around him which made him open his eyes. The cry of an infant child._

_Alaric's first thought was that the cry was that of his son, but this didn't sound like Ares. It sounded more like a newborn. That was when he saw a dim light approaching him, ebbing along in the darkness. It slowly got brighter as it came closer and Alaric could make out the light as what looked like an orb. An orb that looked almost organic and the cries were coming from it._

_Something about this orb for reasons unknown made him reach out for it._

_Alaric reached out his hands and gently clasped the glowing form. The moment his fingers touched it, the shapeless orb slowly shifted into something else. A growing organism that was instantly familiar and filled Alaric with sadness and a trace of anger_

_It was the developing fetus of Alaric's second child._

_Alaric watched as it slowly formed into a tiny infant, cradled in his hands, of undetermined gender, symbolizing it's empty identity. An identity cruelly stolen by the Marked._

_Another son or perhaps a daughter?_

_Sadly, Alaric would never know._

_Alaric brought the child up to his head, forehead to forehead and slowly shutting his eyes in heartfelt pain._

_I'm... so sorry, Alaric wept in his mind._

_But then he felt it slowly move away from him. Opening his eyes, he saw that the small bundle was starting to slip through his fingers, crumbling into sparkling dust that dispersed throughout the void, taking the place of stars before fading into nothingness._

_He gave out a loud roar of pain and anger, holding his head and trying to wake up even harder._

_He then heard something else echoing around him. At first, from the harshness and brutality, he thought it was the cruel laughter of the Marked. But it wasn't the sounds of cruel laughter. It was the sounds of combat. Of clashing blades and battle cries._

_What is this?! He thought in agonized frustration. Stop torturing me!_

_That was when a burning pain rocked through out his body as if molten lava was pumping through his veins. And it was coming from his right arm. Straining against the pain, he looked to his arm as he raised it. The grudge runes tattooed on his arms, even the ones he had removed, were aflame with crimson fire. At that point, while desperately trying to pat out the flames, he could feel the tattoos tugging from his arm, trying to tear from his flesh. Each tug intensified the pain far beyond his tolerance, tearing into his very soul. After several, beyond excruciating tugs, the tattoos finally and explosively tore from him in arcs of flames, provoking a pained yell from him and leaving burnt ashen patches as they circled around his arm like planets orbiting a sun. _

_Expecting horrific smoking wounds on his arm, Alaric was surprised when he saw that when the ash fell, his arm was undamaged. It was like he had no tattoos there to start with._

_Then as one, the runes impacted his arm in a fiery conflagration and merged into one large rune that encompassed his entire forearm. The flames then turned a glowing blue as the rune shifted into a more fluid shape rather than angular. And when the flames died, the rune continued to glow._

_What the hell? Alaric thought, looking at his arm front to back._

_Then all of the void evaporated like morning mist and in its place was a war, fought in a desolate snow wasteland in the middle of a snowstorm. Fighting was erupting between wisps of light, resembling humanoid figures wielding varying pole weapons or dual hand weapons. Fighting them were dark wisps in the form of the xenomorphs on this planet. The light was a resolute wall against the dark tide washing against it._

_It was almost like angels from the heavens were battling the demons from hell._

_Then from the light emerged a solitary figure._

_One of the figures of light, burning as bright as a white sun, charged forth into the dark forms. Wielding a stave with a parallel curved blade on top, it tore its way through the vast numbers of the dark hordes, each shadow dispersing in waves when the weapon slashed through them. Each one gave out a loud screech as it vanished like dust scattering in the wind._

_Then from out of the frozen wastes came a vast monolithic creature of darkness that obscured the whole field and dimmed the wall of light. But the lone figure remained ever bright. With a lunging throw, a bird shaped flare launched itself from the figures arm._

_A loud avian shriek echoed in his mind as the bird of light blinded his vision as it struck the monolith of shadow._

Alaric awoke with a strained start, panting and coughing rapidly, the snow billowing around his mouth. His bloodshot eyes darted around as he struggled to see where he was. He could see nothing for the darkness was too much for his eyes to cope with. He then shivered as his body registered the severe drop in temperature. His armor's heating had been knocked out, likely from the impact. He quickly realized that he had landed in a large snow mound.

But knowing that he survived the fall did little to improve his mood after what he had witnessed in his mind.

"Damn these nightmares!" He cursed through gritted teeth. "They're getting more intense than before."

He could feel his whole body throb from the battering he had taken on the way down. He painfully moved his left arm, blotting out the newly registered pain from resultantly being twisted out of alignment, to see his wrist-comp and reactivate his armor's heating. However, by merely dragging his fingers over it, his felt that his wrist-comp had been completely ripped open by the fall. No doubt when he was being forced into the shaft's wall during the scuffle.

With that vital piece of gear gone, he could no longer keep himself warm. Then again, his armor was so badly damaged that the heating might not have worked in the first place. In fact, his fingers and toes were already numb.

"Shit." he muttered, flinching as he cracked his arm back in line. "Well, I'm at the bottom, finally." His eyes looked around. "Where did that feral bastard land?"

Alaric's eyes soon caught sight of the bastard in question. His insane Yautja foe had fortunately landed in a very bad place, as demonstrated from his rock impaled, battered corpse that was several meters from him. The large jagged spire of rock, measuring ten feet in height and one foot in width at the base protruding from his front where he hung dead in the middle and glowing blood pooling around the body, casting a dim green glow to the surroundings.

"Well, at least that's one problem solved." Alaric muttered. "Now, where the hell am I?"

He tried to pick himself up but he only succeeded in sliding down to the bottom of the mound, leaving a deep groove behind him as he slid. Alaric groaned in annoyance as his axes slid down after him, skidding aside his head before a light snowdrift obscured him.

"I'm in a frozen version of hell." he cursed before pausing. "Wait a second."

He thought he had heard something.

Alaric groggily lifted his head and listened. He could hear a rapping sound. It sounded like footsteps on stone. His eyes looked around, trying to locate the direction of those sound. But, how could that be? There was nothing but snow as far as he could tell or see.

But somehow, the steps were getting louder and louder into deafening beats. Blocking his ears with his hands proved futile as the steps became painful to hear. As if something was stomping around from within his head.

But that soon came to light when something odd happened.

In a flash of white light, enough to temporally and painfully blind him, Alaric found himself in a hazy mist-like rendition of the area he was in, like he was in a dream. And there was no snow here. When he blinked his sight back, he saw that he was laying in a stone corridor, lined with ornate carvings. Yautja carvings. They looked very fresh, like they were freshly carved no more then a few weeks before.

But these carvings were not in the tribal fashion. They looked more enduring, geometrical, yet lifelike. And the left they portrayed humanoid warriors of some kind, wearing armor like he had never seen before, marching into a monolithic temple in the middle. On the right were the visages of a swarm of those Xenomorphs being forced into the temple by another group of warriors.

Looking up, he found that the shaft from which he fell wasn't there. There was just the flat, masterly worked roof of the tunnel.

What's going on? He hesitantly questioned in his mind as he propped himself onto his elbows to get a better look around him. Where the hell am I?

He then heard the same echoing footsteps coming from ahead of him.

Then he saw a figure or maybe a ghost materialize a short distance in front of him. It was a dark humanoid silhouette, one that he had seen many times in his dreams whenever he needed guidance. The silhouette of the first slayer as distinguished by the axes on him and the long mane of spiked hair flowing down his back.

Grimnir? He thought.

Then something happened that put his throbbing head into a spin. Grimnir's silhouette faded into view and Alaric saw that he had seamlessly changed from being a human. From what he could make out in his blurred vision, it looked like Grimnir transformed into a Yautja warrior but one who was completely different then any he had ever seen before. This hunter, whose heavily, almost armored, ornamented dreadlocks reached right down to the floor and curled around his feet, was clad an incredibly advanced looking fully enclosed armor suit and robes.

This armor frankly made all the other armor he had ever seen look crude and slapped together in comparison. For example, it was adorned with an ornate, archaic pattern of runic symbols and swirling lines either engraved, enameled, or etched on. Some patterns vaguely looked like sets of wings. Another was that the armor looked like it was perfectly formed to the warrior's body with no encumbrance or hindrance, despite the plating being of a reasonable thickness. It would seem that this armor was perfectly made to fit.

The plating was attached to an underlying padded suit of an almost cloth-like metallic material, which was formed around the Yautja's body perfectly like a second skin, showing off all the muscles beneath. The cloak and robes was also made of the same material, but in a much finer weave that was almost like silk.

The mask, or helmet to be more accurate, was more angular and geometric rather then fluid and tribal as most masks and was incredibly, ornately decorated but there was something odd about the design. It didn't slope over the head like the other masks he had seen, being more like a human mask. It also looked like it was made from two parts, the first was made of multiple plates and was covering the head and the second covering the face as the actual mask.

This Yautja must have a shorter crest, shorter then that insane hunter from before or might not have a crest at all. Ja'anya had told him about different Yautja sub types. Some had the more common large head crests with a few having shorter crests, at least on Lai'kairis anyway. In fact, were it not for the dreadlocks, he could pass off as an unusually tall human.

There was also a distinctive symbol located on the mask's forehead. Something that had caught Alaric's attention.

The rune or glyph was, as simply to describe it, like two fluid scythe-like symbols joined back to back, forming an elongated arrow. Below the bladed head was what looked like a geometrical inverted V. Combined, they looked very similar to Alaric's more angular family rune.

Then he saw something that really caught his attention. The figure was holding in it's hand an incredibly, masterly crafted, almost god-like scythe. The ornately engraved scythe head was very fluid and razor sharp like the beak of a hawk or falcon. The back of the blade was elongated over the circular disk base connected to the shaft as a sharp geometric spike and at the base of the ornate and intricate stave was a cleft headed retractable spear head.

This scythe, like the armor the Yautja was wearing, couldn't have been crafted by Yautja hands.

And to top all these things off, Alaric undeniably saw his own axes, looking completely out of place, holstered on the Yautja's back and hips.

Grimnir? He struggled to think in confusion. What in the...?

Alaric slowly began heaving himself up, getting up on his elbows before pausing when he saw a two more ghosts appear, walking into existence. These too were Yautja and they were clad in advanced armor too, though they were less ornate or advanced than the former which logically had to be their leader. But their armor was each different and Alaric saw that they each had the same configuration of weapon management, one double handed weapon on their back and two one handed weapons holstered on their hips.

The first, in a stark contrast, was a head taller and had what looked like heavily armored clawed gauntlets combined with a semi-circle shield, no doubt showing that this one preferred using his bare hands. His armor was thicker on his forearms and legs below the knee, essentially articulated slabs of metal, but less so everywhere else, instead having what was like swathes of the linen like material around him, evoking the look of a desert warrior or a warrior monk. His long and armored dreadlocks were rather oddly wrapped around his neck like a scarf. Likely this was to keep them from obstructing his movements

The second, slightly smaller than the others, had large bladed war picks on his hips and a double handed crow's beak, a weapon with a sharp curved spike on one side of the head and a hammer on the other, in his grasp. He was most heavily armored on his torso and had what looked like a large gorget, an enclosing armor piece designed to protect the neck, shielding his neck and lower face. Places that weren't as armored were covered by the same cloth material as the first, though not as robe-like as the first. His dreadlocks were arranged into three ponytails that reached to the back of his knees.

They too had the glyph on their masks.

Another pair of booted feet could be heard running down the tunnel behind him as Alaric turned his head and saw another figure but it was something that he did not expect to see. It was a human as far as he could tell. It was a male and was clad in an armor suit like the Yautja but it resembled the ancient Greek hoplite armor, specifically the distinctive linothorax, only much more efficient in design then by human hands, modularly formed and fully articulated instead of being like a tubular corset. The human had a 10ft long, slightly geometrical spear, a dory, and a large round shield, an aspis or hoplon, which also had that clan symbol on it. And the angular helmet, the front of it at any rate, was in the distinctive style, and somewhat intimidating visage, of a Corinthian helmet at the height of ancient Greek civilization, complete with a large horsehair-like crest. The human was also wearing a just as distinctive red cloak. And there was only one faction of Greek people who had ever worn red.

The Spartans.

Then that meant the inverted V symbol was actually the Greek letter 'Lambda', that stood for Lakedaimon. The Spartan's homeland in Greece.

Alaric's mind was completely blown away from what he was seeing, so much that he swore smoke was coming out of his ears. His ancestors, Spartans of the ancient world had fought beside ancient Yautja warriors on a remote planet?

What the fuck is going on?! He thought as he could feel his head straining from the mere sight.

The Spartan walked up to the lead Yautja, kneeled respectfully before him with his spear pointing high and, in another surprise, spoke to him in the slayer tongue.

"Lord Gri'nyr, the titan has been sighted." The Spartan said, gesturing with his shield down the tunnel. "It has been driven towards the prison."

The Yautja handled the scythe in his hands in thought, slowly wielding it through the air. The runes on the blade flickered with shimmering light.

"Enemy strength?" he questioned in the same tongue.

"A hundred guarding with possibly another two to four hundred hidden in reserve." the Spartan explained. "Scouts are already assessing the situation."

"Are all the tunnels locked down?" Gri'nyr inquired, gesturing to the Spartan to rise.

"Yes. My Spartan brothers are in position as we speak." the Spartan answered, standing up. "Our phalanxes have blocked off their escape. The Stone Kin are sealing the tunnels behind them and your brethren are pushing forward as we speak."

The Yautja planted the scythe down, it's cleft spear bottom rapping loudly on the stone below.

"Excellent." Gri'nyr praised mildly. "We have them all cornered. The plan worked."

The Yautja with the war picks stepped up to his leader.

"Brother, We don't have the numbers to take on that many, even with the Spartans." he cautioned. "Our numbers are low enough as it is. Most of our clan brothers are back on the homeworld recovering or have joined the ancestors."

Gri'nyr looked to his sibling. His body language indicated that of the elder lecturing the younger.

"If we let up now and lose the momentum, Tse'los, it will only give them time to devour another world and replenish their numbers." Gry'nyr stated. "And time is something that we cannot spare. Not when we are so close."

"I agree." the gauntleted Yautja said, walking up and adjusting his clawed gauntlets. "We delayed an assault against a young hive once, courtesy of the Council, and paid for it when their numbers swarmed because of the time they gained. Another race was consumed as a result."

"That's the Council for you, Kas'tigyr." Gri'nyr pointed out. "They're more concerned over pride for our race than those of others." he gestured towards the Spartan. "Unity is what's needed in these dark times."

Tse'los shook his head in denial at his brother's ideals.

"Many of the clans see it as weakness that we allow oomans into our clan and ally with non-Yautja races." he clarified. "That it does nothing to improve our relations with them."

"Relations?" Kas'tigyr scoffed. "Most view us in contempt out of jealousy, spite and all in between."

Gri'nyr snorted in contempt at the accusation.

"Those short sighted fools insist on racial purity at a time like this?" he queried with disgust as he cradled the scythe on his hands "Life itself is at stake with these abominations on the loose!"

He then reverently started to drag his fingers on the scythe's blade.

"We swore that we would defeat the primarchs, preserve what little life is left in this galaxy after the Ossian's arrogant pursuit for perfection and we will not dishonor ourselves by not even trying." Gri'nyr stated with duty lacing his voice. "It would be an insult to our progenitor and all he sacrificed." His tone then changed to one of comradeship as he mentioned a valued ally." Besides, most of them have never seen Spartans in battle. The oomans as a race have great potential within them."

The Spartan bowed his head in recognition of Gri'nyr's praise.

"The other clans see them as prey, nothing else, since the Incident that left a land frozen." Tse'los reminded.

"The oomans put up a fierce defense regardless." Kas'tigyr commended.

Gri'nyr turned to Tse'los.

"What word on support from Clan Xel'khala?" he asked.

"Nothing yet. We haven't received any word on them." Tse'los replied, with a shrug. "Then again, that clan especially would never walk shoulder to shoulder with oomans."

"Like in the Void we have!" Kas'tigyr chided. "They may have numbers on their side, evidenced by their overpopulated worlds, but they're spineless, every last one of them, just like their founder." He then grunted in displeasure. "Since when have any of them ever gone into a real battle. They only decided to assist us when the all the fighting is over. Scavengers every last one of them."

"Then we'll have to make do with what we have. As usual." Gri'nyr stated with barely disguised agreement. "And finish this before they arrive."

Kas'tigyr snickered at the prospect.

Alaric quickly surmised that the two clans were bitter rivals.

Gri'nyr raised a hand to his helmet, no doubt to activate a com-unit inside the armor.

"My sons, are you in position?" he voxxed.

"Yes, Father." came three voices that also spoke in the Slayer tongue but oddly didn't sound Yautja enough.

"Lead your clan brothers against the Patriarch's kin." Gri'nyr commanded. "Show no mercy to the beasts but don't waste your lives needlessly."

"Do we still have time, Father?" one of the voices asked.

"Time isn't important, son. Only life is important." Gri'nyr recited.

He lowered his hand, his coms shut down and turned to his brothers.

"Ready to finish what the Ossians foolishly started?" Gri'nyr asked them.

"If this is going to be the last time, I'm going to enjoy myself, while it lasts." Kas'tigyr said.

"For our progenitor." Tse'los declared.

Gri'nyr nodded to them and then turned to the Spartan.

"Lead on, Spartan." Gri'nyr commanded.

The Spartan bowed his head, the crest waving from the motion before he turned and jogged off down the tunnel at a steady pace, his boots thumping on the stone. Gri'nyr then cocked his head to the tunnel, pointed the scythe in that direction before he and his brothers promptly sped down the tunnel in a vanishing blur as they left Alaric's vision.

Alaric was still trying to process what he just witnessed when things changed once more.

The blinding flash of white light filled his vision and he was back in darkness, leaving him blinking. He didn't have any clue what he had just seen, maybe the cold was causing him to hallucinate, but at least he now had a vague idea of where he was. He was in the temple. And that meant those bugs were in here too.

He had literally fallen right into the nest.

I guess Mal'fax was right about this one, Alaric mused before holding his head. Oh, my head!

The migraine that Alaric was being subjected to was far more intense then any he ever felt. It felt like it was starting from deep within his mind, the source unknown and filling up every part of him.

He managed to force back the migraine after a few moments because he had a more pressing concern then a throbbing head. He knew he had to get out fast before the residents tracked him down. That is if the cold doesn't kill him first.

'_Come on Alaric'_, he thought. _'Get up. Don't let everyone down.'_

Alaric then groggily shifted and slowly got his knees under him. His whole body ached as he struggled for control. His hands now felt their way into the snow until they hit a hard surface, the stone floor of the tunnel. He slowly heaved himself up, his armor protecting his legs and arms falling apart as he did so. He could feel the cold encroaching on him now that the warmth of his armor was gone.

Using the dim light of the dead hunter's blood, glowing ever dimmer as it coagulated in the frozen environment Alaric recovered his gear.

'_I gotta get going'_, he thought as he felt around and picked up his pistol. _'Gotta get back to the others.'_

He unloaded and checked the magazine for Razeal and saw that he had only nine rounds left. Almost a full load out. He reloaded Razeal and quietly cocked it. He holstered his sidearm and recovered his hand axes. He felt inside his pack, that had somehow managed to survive the falling brawl and sure enough, he felt several flares and the flare gun inside.

He was tempted to let one off and gain some light and warmth but he tactfully decided against it.

'_Can't let those bugs know I'm here_', he thought as he sized up his options. _'Must be stealthy and one with the darkness._'

He took out the flare gun and holstered it in his belt for quick access should the need arise. He also took the spare flares and pocketed them.

He looked back at the impaled hunter.

Suppose I better see what he won't need any more, he thought.

He took a few brisk steps forwards when he suddenly tripped over something hidden under the snow and fell half buried into the snow again with a thud coming from below. He muttered in annoyance as he got to his knees and rubbed his head, having banged it against something hard hidden in the snow.

"Oh, blast it all!" he muttered, rubbing his head before pausing. "Wait a second."

There was an indented mark on his forehead and it felt instinctively familiar. It was an upwards pointing arrow and chevrons. Instantly, he rummaged about in the snow, scooping great handfuls away in the manner of a burrowing arctic rodent before his fingers touched chilled metal. He felt around more before he confirmed was he was seeking.

"There is a god!" he praised as he heaved up a revered object.

He had found his great axe. It wasn't as lost as he had feared before.

He hefted up his great axe with renewed vigor, brushing clumped snow off of it as he grabbed the haft, using it to support his weight. He shook himself, his cuiress' armor plating fell off into the snow in jagged fragments, leaving only the battered framework left. His now ragged jacket was doing little to shield him from the cold. He picked up Razeal in its holster, and clipped it to his belt before hobbling over to the dead hunter and went about ripping what salvageable fur he could get. He managed to get a fair amount of shreds and, after cleaning most of the blood off, stuffed his jacket with them.

'_This should buy me some time'_, he thought in hope before looking at the stone that impaled the Hish. _'I guess this slab used to be part of the ceiling.'_

Aside from the fur shreds, there was little salvage to be found. Most of the hunter's gear was completely wrecked from before he caught up to Alaric and company on the ice bridge or from the falling brawl and impact. The one thing that Alaric found to be of any of value was a small pendant.

And that made him remember something important as he quickly checked what pockets and pouches were still intact. It then dawned on him that he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly before remembering to shut up.

His explicit shout echoed down the tunnel as if the planet itself cursed at him. And that was likely going to make any Xenomorph further down detect him. But he didn't care about that for the moment.

Frustratingly, he had lost Qul'dan's clan glyph, the one link that he had towards finding the rest of his family's murderers. It must have been knocked from his belt in the falling scuffle and it could have landed anywhere here. It could have even been snagged high up in the shaft he had plummeted down.

And Alaric couldn't afford to waste time digging through the snow or climbing for it.

Alaric gave the dead hunter's head an aerial roundhouse kick in frustration, snapping the already pulverized neck completely with a loud crack and the head went flying down the tunnel before landing in the snow with a dull poof.

Alaric looked at the pendant. This symbol was an identifying mark for a Hish. It was of a broken chain that symbolizes that the Hish could not be controlled when they go berserk.

Alaric pocketed the pendant for safe keeping. He'd never know when it would could come in handy. It could also serve as evidence should the need arise.

He looked onward into the dark and cold corridor before him. Further on would be the hive and with it, his chances of survival would plummet as fast the cold. But it was his only chance of getting out and back to the colony.

Well, he thought. Every journey begins with a single step.

He then walked steadily down the corridor, his eyes slowly adapting to the dark as he left the glowing blood of the dead hunter behind. He kept a hand on the nearest wall for support and guidance. His great axe was in the other, used to support him until he got his strength back to walk unaided.

He could hear his boots crunching the snow and the great axe's pommel rap the stone beneath him, giving him the impression that he had landed in the outskirts of the temple. Most likely, this was a tunnel entrance used as an alternate means of entering and leaving the tunnel. No doubt that the safer route was buried under the snowdrift he had landed.

And he soon found his first sign of the hive within.

He heard a more distinct crunch under his boots and paused. He carefully knelt down and felt around his feet. Sure enough, he could feel the tendrils of the hive, hidden under the snow.

"Right." he whispered to himself. "No going back now."

He rose back up and stoically walked on.

Alaric had no clue how far he was going or how long the tunnel was. He had lost all sense of time since he woke up. Had he been knocked out for hours or mere minutes? All he had to go on was the ghosts, if you could call them that, he had seen and from what he could tell, he was going to the temple.

Considering how he didn't freeze to death while unconscious, Alaric counted himself lucky.

He slipped on a slick piece of ice covering the floor, causing him to stumble against the wall for support, the area in which was covered in more slick ice. He slipped down the wall, landing on his knees and slipping prone on the floor face down in the snow. He grunted in frustration, blowing snow out of his face. He then stubbornly tried to get to his feet, using his axe to pull himself along until he got off the ice slick.

'_Well'_, he thought as he cleared. _'This is going to cause problems.'_

That was when he heard a soft sound. The flapping of wings. The same sound he had heard in the ice cavern. He lifted his head up, wiping snow from his eyes. He could see something in the darkness ahead of him. A hovering reflecting light coming towards him.

He thought that the cold was playing tricks on his mind again. That was until he felt a breeze on his face, and saw the billowing of the snow around him. The breeze made by flapping wings.

As Alaric's eye adjusted and the light got closer, Alaric could make out the shape of some kind of winged animal. As the light landed in front of his head, he could see that it was in fact a bird of some kind.

'_What the?'_ Alaric thought. _'Something not a bug?'_

This was completely the opposite of what he would except to see in a hive.

The bird, which appeared to be some variation a falcon or a hawk with a large crown-like crest on its head, had a rippling shimmering metallic sheen to its feathers as it lowered its crested head to Alaric. It looked as if it had been crafted from silvery metal or ceramic material, giving the impression that it was some kind of automaton. It walked closer to Alaric, lowering its head to his level. Alaric could see that its eyes were glowing with a white light like diamonds in the sun, and, much to Alaric's surprise, he could see glowing lines on the hawk that surged in pulses with glowing energy.

The hawk looked at Alaric, noting his bloodstained face, his ice encrusted hair and above all else his ruby eyes. In fact, it came very close to his eyes and saw that Alaric was not blinking at all.

Alaric then saw the birds eyes flicker a shimmering light blue, that than spread throughout its body like a ripple in water.

"Well, you're something I didn't expect to find in a hive." Alaric said, as the hawk took a step or two backwards.

Alaric at that point noticed a faint ragged mark on its breast that was a slight fraction duller then the rest of its plumage. A scar from which this bird had received a horrific wound. It spread from the base of its neck, down its breast to its thigh. A scar like this indicated that the hawk had been hit by something with exceptional, almost catastrophic, force behind it.

With a wound like that, how could this bird have survived?

"Well, looks we've both have seen better days." Alaric added.

The hawk tilted its head, like it was processing what Alaric said. It then emitted a quiet chirp that sounded almost metallic from its pitch.

Alaric for a reason he couldn't explain, had a vague understanding of what the hawk said.

"I suppose being in a hive of bugs is a lot worse than falling down an abyss with a feral hunter." he surmised.

The hawk then flapped its wings and hovered as Alaric heaved himself to his knees, propping his weight on his great axe's haft. The hawk waited until Alaric had got to his feet before it flew up higher. It hovered as Alaric looked up at it.

When Alaric regained his balance, the hawk flew further on down the tunnel before waiting for him again.

"It's like it wants me to follow it." he whispered to himself.

Alaric looked back behind him, seeing the darkness that he had left behind before looking toward the shining hawk. He made his decision. He heaved himself forward, his legs motioning to keep him steady and he carefully followed the hawk.

"Do you know the way out?" he whispered.

'_Oh god'_, he thought. _'I'm asking a bird for the way out of a hive.'_

The hawk didn't answer as it merely motioned him to continue following it. Alaric kept up with it, negotiating his way along the snow, ice and webbed floor.

'_Well'_, he thought. _'If it can navigate a Xenomorph hive, then it can navigate it's way out.'_

They eventually reached the end of the tunnel and, much to Alaric's annoyance, it came up to a flight of stone stairs. And how far the stairs went Alaric didn't know. In fact, he couldn't see any end to them in these dark conditions.

The hawk on the other hand flew up a dozen or so steps before perching on the stone and waiting for Alaric.

"Easy for you." Alaric said slightly vexed, holstering his great axe before walking up the steps, keeping to the wall for guidance. "You can fly."

The hawk merely gave another metallic chirp and flew further up. Alaric followed along, his boots crunching the snow and hive webbing beneath him.

'_How hard can these steps be?'_ He thought as he easily past the tenth step.

After an unaccountable amount of time, Alaric eventually reached the top of the stairs, panting hard and feeling the burning sensation in his numbed legs, which was a good sign, and he was greeted to a dimly lit hall. It was about fifty meters in all directions and massive stone pillars were situated in the corners of the hall. Alaric slumped against the wall and slid down until his great axe's haft kept him up.

Alaric was now eating his words.

"Whoever built this temple had a serious climbing fetish." he muttered, wiping sweat and dried blood from his face. "How many stairs could a temple need?!"

He looked up and he saw that faint beams of light were shining down from the ceiling, providing a minimum level of light. Which was an achievement considering that there was hive webbing encroaching on the stone. From what Alaric could see, it would appear that he had finally entered the temple itself.

'_Well'_, he thought. _'This must be the lobby, or what passes as one.'_

The hawk walked up to him as he caught his breath.

"If you want to know how many steps there are, I lost count at two hundred." he panted.

The hawk cocked its head at his answer in the manner of mild amusement before it flapped its wings and hovered.

"Don't tell me you're not tired." Alaric added with a slight tone of disdain.

As soon as Alaric recovered from his climb, the hawk flew out into the hall, shining as a bright star.

Alaric heaved himself up and walked out into the hall where he saw the hawk hovering high above, watching him. He continued walking until he came to an abrupt stop. He bumped into what felt like a stone wall that had been set up rather out of place slap in the middle of the hall with a loud thud. He reached for an axe on his hip in surprise before gave the wall a tap with his boot.

"What the... what is a wall doing in the middle of a hall?" he said to himself, in annoyance. "Oh, probably a decorative piece about the gods or something."

He heard the hawk above and he looked up to see it perch on top of the wall.

"I hope this is the last time you lead me into a wall." he said, rubbing his head.

Alaric felt along the wall as he was about to walk around it and his fingers brushed over some indentations. He stopped suddenly when he realized what he was trailing over with confusion in his mind. He felt around some more and found that he was rubbing his fingers over carved glyphs or runes and what was confusing was that they felt oddly familiar.

'_Wait a second'_, he thought as he felt some more. _'There's something else here.'_

He turned to the wall and felt around. He could feel more of the indentations and something else as well when he reached higher up. He could feel something sculpted into the wall.

He risked the chance of detection as he reached for a flare but he had to be sure. Ripping the cap off, he was instantly illuminated in warm red light and what he saw was incredible. He was staring at a large carved mural, that took up the whole wall, half as high as the hall and somehow free of the hive, of a scene from ages past.

"By my ancestors!" he muttered.

It was of a scene of a battle between dozens of those Yautja warriors and formations of Spartans battling those Xenomorphs. The Yautja were depicted as solitary, or in small groups in stand off's, cutting down any Xenomorphs who stood in their way. The Spartans were in their characteristic phalanx formation and were standing firm and against the Xenomorphs, like a stone wall against the rain, marching over the bodies of the slain. Then there were also smaller humanoid forms that he couldn't make out. He could only assume that it must be some alien race.

In the centre of the mural was that Yautja, or maybe an unknown predecessor, who wielded the scythe, slaying one of the Xenomorphs in a heroic fashion. But what caught Alaric's full attention were the scriptures that were carved at the bottom of the mural.

Scriptures that, for reasons he could not comprehend, looked strangely familiar.

He looked at each in turn, taking each symbol's form carefully.

"Are these what I think they are?" he whispered

Doing a quick head check for passing Xenomorphs, he placed the flare on the ground and he pulled out his tome, remarkably undamaged for all the hell he had been through so far, and flicked to the first page. He felt the runes again as he read the runes in his book.

He could feel his head hurt again from what he was seeing, rubbing his temple in response.

'_This... this can't be right'_, he thought, bordering on disbelief. _'They're almost one and the same?'_

It was there that a thought popped in his head.

_Alaric and Ja'anya were on her bed after a long day of training for the initiation hunt and the one sided intimate shower that followed it. After drying themselves, Alaric had Ja'anya laying across his lap as he gave her a massage on her bare and aching back. Ja'anya meanwhile was purring away loudly and flexing her fingers and toes, her eyes shut in bliss as she felt Alaric's fingers knead her aching muscles._

_Alaric, towel wrapped around his waist, was diligently working away after he had unintentionally been a bit rougher then he usually was in his training regime and Ja'anya had struggled to keep up. The training ended when Ja'anya landed roughly and unsupported on her back. It was a good thing that Yautja physiology was stronger then a human's._

_Alaric had his tome open next to him, simultaneously reading as he tended to Ja'anya and occasionally he would flick the next page over with one hand while continuing with the other._

_Ja'anya stopped purring in annoyance when he did that for the fifth time, opening an eye._

"_Alaric, don't you ever stop reading that tome of yours?" she questioned, resting up on her elbows._

"_Nope." Alaric answered nonchalantly, continuing to massage her._

_Ja'anya rested back down on her crossed arms and clicked her mandibles._

"_You must've read that book a hundred times." she guessed, stroking a stray dreadlock before she let out a long purr as Alaric hit a soft spot at the base of her spine._

"_Three hundred to be exact." Alaric corrected._

_Ja'anya propped herself up again and looked at Alaric like he was clinically insane. Alaric was still fixed in his tome. _

"_You've read the same book three hundred times?" she said. "Why do you keep reading it?"_

_Alaric scratched his head as he looked to her._

"_Well, there are some things in here that I don't understand." Alaric said._

_Ja'anya tilted her head in question._

"_You mean there are things you don't know." she asked._

"_Well..." Alaric started, shifting his position so he was sitting cross legged. "More like gaps to be precise."_

_Ja'anya sat up, wrapping her towel around her waist as Alaric showed her the page in question. It was a lengthy section of writing and there were no illustrations describing what was going on. Ja'anya had no idea what the runes meant but Alaric gave her a brief explanation._

"_On this page of my clan's later history, it's leading up to an event called The Betrayal." Alaric surmised. "It could be revolving around how Genghis Khan decimated Grimnir's family, maybe that they were sold out or something. But when I turn it over..." he flicked the page and the runes suddenly revealed an entirely different section to the one they just seen. "It just cuts off suddenly and there is no other mention anywhere. Like it's missing a page but I cant find any evidence of a page being there in the first place."_

_Ja'anya could feel a faint trace of annoyance emanating from Alaric as he spoke. She saw that Alaric had been wrestling with this conundrum for a long time with little or no clue as to what he could find._

"_Why?" she asked._

_Alaric shut the tome, and he placed it carefully on a pillow._

"_I don't have any clue." he sighed. "I've spent many a night trying to figure it out, trying to find a hidden key. I can only think that maybe this is something my father would have told me about when I was old enough. Or maybe Razeal could have shed light on it." he sighed with slight exasperation. "Something I may never find out."_

_Ja'anya shuffled up next to Alaric and wrapped an arm around him, bringing him close to her. Alaric simply rested his head on her shoulder as she started stroking his hair comfortingly._

"_I'm sure you will find out one day." Ja'anya assured him._

_Alaric shrugged._

"_Maybe." Alaric said. "Question is: Will I regret it when I do?"_

"_Well, we'll deal with it when you get there." she assured. _

_She then resumed what she was doing before hand._

"_Now..." Ja'anya said, letting her towel slip down again, before she prostrated herself over Alaric's lap, her back to him. "Where were we?" she asked with a purr._

_Alaric tilted his head in thought. _

"_I think I got to round about... here." Alaric stated, rubbing a hand down her lower back._

_Ja'anya let a long purr as Alaric resumed his work._

The runes on the wall and the runes in his tome were almost identical.

Alaric reached for his ciurass frame . He pulled out a small tablet engraved with a message in Yautja glyphs, both modern and the ancient dialect used by the priestesses. It was a little charm that Ja'anya had given him for luck on is hunt.

He compared it with the runes that he was seeing, dragging his fingers on each rune individually. He noted that each rune and their ancient/modern counterpart were only vaguely similar in style. Only barely.

"My runes are based on archaic Yautja glyphs?" he whispered, noting the difference between the Yautja glyphs. "And it's an extinct dialect."

'_This may be odd'_, he thought. _'But at least I can read my way out of here.'_

Alaric placed the charm back and quickly read the epitaph that was below the mural.

_'This is the final battle of the dark times.'_ Alaric surmised in his head. _'Then this clan of Yautja imprisoned the Primarch, and they were aided by the Spartans and the... Stone-kin.'_

Alaric at this point wondered who and what the Stone-kin were. They were mentioned a lot from when he was seeing those ghosts.

'They fought for centuries to stem the tide', Alaric continued in his head. 'This galaxy losing much of its life to the Primarchs, the Ossians horrific successors.'

That was another name that Alaric heard much about. Who were the Ossians? And what did they have to do with the Primarchs?

He then found a line at the end on the epitaph. One that he least expected to find in a place like this.

"Those who been joined by the Bond, aid the clan of the Black Warrior, Cetanu." Alaric translated. "Do not betray their trust. Break their trust and incur their progenitor's relentless wrath. For Death is as inevitable as Time."

The flare gave a last sputter of life and Alaric was once more plunged into darkness. Alaric muttered as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

'_Clan of the Black Warrior?'_ He thought. _'As in their god of death?'_

What could that mean? Was this clan related to a divine being? Or did they earn that title through some means?

He felt a breeze on him and he saw the hawk hovering by him, urging him. It would appear that it thought they had lingered long enough.

"Why have you brought me here?" he asked it as he put his tome away.

The hawk looked at him, slowly tilting its head at his question.

"Look, I need to find a way out. I don't want to stay in a hive longer than I need to." Alaric told the hawk. "My friends are in danger from those bugs and I need to get back to them."

The hawk's eyes flickered blue, in a manner that Alaric interpreted as understanding, before it turned and flew away, hovering as it waited for Alaric to follow. Alaric shrugged his shoulders and followed.

'_So'_, he thought. _'My Spartan ancestors helped this clan of Yautja, supposedly descended from a god, to fight these bugs. Well, that's a distinction.'_

He paused in mid step.

'_Was this what the tome was missing?'_ He theorised. _'And when were my axes property of a hunter?'_

A sharp breeze snapped him out of his thinking and he noticed the hawk impatiently getting his attention.

"All right, I'm coming." he told it as he resumed his trek.

Alaric watched it fly off a distance, to the adjacent archway that led deeper into the temple. He made his way to it, keeping a sharp eye out for any Xenomorphs, as it moved on ahead.

Alaric had a lot on his mind as he followed the hawk. First, he was wondering on why he had seen no Xenomorphs so far. Second, he was wondering how this hawk could have survived on this planet, let alone in this hive. Thirdly, where was the hawk leading him? And fourth but not least, what was going on with him?

First, Alaric had been seeing some weird visions about his Spartan ancestors aiding a group of incredibly advanced Yautja. And second, the runes in his tome were nearly identical to the glyphs he had seen on the mural.

He was starting to think he regretted wanting to find out the missing history of his clan. This was getting to be too strange for comfort.

The hawk on the other hand was diligently guiding Alaric through the dim stone corridors and the vast empty halls, occupied only by the Xenomorphs' hive. Alaric could only guess that it was fulfilling some purpose. Whether or not that meant leading him out to safety, he did not know. But he knew, deep down in his gut, that his best chance for survival was to follow the hawk.

After some time in the dark, Alaric soon arrived at an abyss-like room, so dark that he couldn't see what was inside. There was no light shining from the ceiling, meaning that the hive must have blocked it off. And he knew better then to go stumbling in the dark; otherwise, he could break his neck falling down stairs if there were any.

He saw the hawk flying over head like a shooting star through space. It flew around in a wide circle, likely keeping an eye out for danger.

'_Not good'_, he thought as he waved a hand in front of his face. _'Can't see a bloody thing.'_

He remembered that he still had the flare gun holstered in his belt He fumbled at his side, working solely by touch until he securely gripped the flare gun. He drew and aimed it high above him.

'_Probably going to regret this'_, he thought.

The flare shot out of the barrel like a comet. And the sight he saw when it detonated in the air was enough to make his jaw drop.

It was a massive cyclopean hall that seemed to stretch up and out as far as the eye could see. Alaric was situated at the top of a massive flight of stairs, well over a hundred steps, that led down to the valley-like hall.

Good thing he decided not to take a step forward in the dark.

Looking up, Alaric could not see the ceiling of the hall. He postulated that this must be some sort of central room that linked the all the rest of the temple together. He could see bridges that spanned the void of the hall, linking the walls together in a crisscross pattern. From a quick calculation based on what he could see from the flare's light as it slowly drifted down, it had to be over a kilometer high at least.

'_This place is more vast then we first thought'_, Alaric thought. _'Is this entire planet one big temple?'_

At that point, the migraine had returned with a vengeance, pulsing into every inch of his head. Alaric clutched his head as he fell to his knees, crunching the ice encrusted webbing underneath him with his teeth clenched shut.

"Oh, shit!" he strained. "Not again!"

Another flash blinded him and, after his eyes recovered, he saw he was back in the haze and that Gri'nyr and his brothers were at the top of the stair case with him, their backs turned to him as they surveyed the scene. Gri'nyr had the scythe propped on his shoulder, the blade curving down. Kas'tigyr was leaning against one of the balustrades and Tse'los was sitting on the stairs, his crows beak on his lap.

Seeing them from the back also revealed another feature of their armor. From the gaps in their robes, as Alaric shifted his position for a better look, he saw twin modules of some kind situated where their shoulder blades are situated. They were sleek, almost hidden on the armor, and had segmented plating that was almost hidden on the upper casing.

Alaric postulated that these must be their version of the Yautja's characteristic plasmacaster. Very advanced from the look of it. If it was able to conform inside their armor.

The three brothers were watching a battle raging along at the bottom of the stairs. Alaric could definitely see and hear it.

Below them at the bottom of the stairs, groups of Yautja warriors and phalanxes of Spartans were engaging a swarm of the Xenomorphs. Or more accurately, they were finishing off a swarm. The Spartans, over five hundred strong, had formed into a large semi-circle, effectively boxing the Xenomorphs in while the Yautja warriors engaged the enemy, fighting with immense skill and maneuverability with either dual weapons or one double handed weapon of various types. The Spartans were bending as lone Xenomorphs broke past the Yautja and hammered at the phalanx, but they were not breaking. Even though they were marching over their wounded and fallen comrades.

But there were also smaller forms in the fight as well, nestled in the Spartan phalanx or hacking away with the Yautja. Alaric couldn't make out what they were though at this distance.

"The oomans have potential." Tse'los admitted. "I'll grant them that. Their formations are quite impenetrable, providing their flanks are protected."

"True, but when they're in a tunnel or narrow pass, you can't shift them." Kas'tigyr reminded before he snorted in disgust. "Unless a pathetic traitor shows the enemy a way around them."

"Maybe. But that last stand in the defense of their homeland had gone down in legend, never to be forgotten." Gri'nyr lectured. "No warrior could ask for a greater honor than that."

Alaric quickly realized that they were referencing the Spartan 300. Was that their motivation for allowing his ancestors to join them?

Tse'los turned to his brother.

"I noticed you've still got your axes with you, even though you're wielding our progenitor's relic." he pointed out.

Gri'nyr reached a hand down and clasped one of the hand axes with respect.

"They are a gift from our closest allies." he said. "They were the first race we encountered to actually hold back the Patriarchs. They honor their debt to us for freeing their homeworld and no one could asked for a greater friend than one of the Stone-kin."

"Speaking of which, here he comes." Kas'tigyr said, pointing an armored finger towards the steps

Alaric was about to see one of these 'Stone-kin' for himself as loud thumping footsteps were heard coming from the stairs

A squat humanoid came walking up into view, armored boots thumping more heavily on the stone. It measured roughly four to five feet in height and it was immensely broad with thick muscular limbs. It was clad in what would appear to be ridiculously heavy armor, essentially great geometrical slabs with intricate patterns inlaid or engraved on with precious metals. The pauldrons' arrangement in particular were so big that it gave the impression that the occupant's head was located in the upper chest. A large ornate double headed geometrical hammer was holstered on its back.

It had a rather intimidating helmet that showed a face of a grim and threatening disposition.

Despite the great weight that this armor must inflict upon its wearer, the humanoid didn't look encumbered in the slightest as it raised its helmet's visor.

Alaric's eyes went wide when he saw the Stone-kin's face.

The face was rather simply a long thick beard and moustache, reaching down to the stomach with a pair of shining eyes hidden beneath and a large chiseled but slightly bulbous nose poking out. The eyes were a penetrating granite grey as they met those of the Yautja.

Alaric was hit with another bout of stupefying surprise. Of all the strange things his head have been doing to him, this was taking the proverbial biscuit.

'_Oh my god!'_ Alaric thought, holding his head as if it was going to crack open. _'Dwarves now!?'_

"Eitri, my old friend." Gri'nyr greeted, kneeling down to the dwarf's height.

"Gri'nyr, you brother of the Stone." Eitri greeted back in a deep gravelly voice lowering his visor.

Alaric was even more stupefied when he actually understood the dwarf. It spoke in a different language than the slayer tongue but, for reason he couldn't comprehend, it was instantly recognizable.

Alaric was brought out of it when Gri'nyr and the dwarf then simultaneously butted heads with a loud clanking thud as their armored heads connected. Kas'tigyr laughed raucously while Tse'los subconsciously rubbed his head as he cringed from the sound. Gri'nyr looked slightly shaken from the impact but quickly shrugged it off.

"I don't know how you Stone-Kin can do that." Tse'los said, lowering his hand.

Eitri gave out a deep, rumbling laugh.

"It takes true children of the stone to do that." Eitri revealed, flicking his visor up. "One of the Spartans gave it a go. Left him unconscious for a week. Commendable that his skull didn't crack."

"Well, you Stone-kin can crack rocks with your head." Kas'tigyr remarked.

Gri'nyr stood back up, giving his head a little shake to throw off what's left of the impact.

"How are things, my old friend?" he asked.

"This fight is brilliant." Eitri answered, waving an arm at the spectacle and reaching for something on his belt. "I lost count of how many spawn I crushed." he gestured to his hammer, from which a faint trace of smoke was seeping from it as he pulled up a long smoking pipe. "Look, it's still smoldering from their ichor."

Alaric could see below that the dwarves were nestled between the Spartan spears, brandishing large headed axes, maces, and hammers. Pole arms that the occasional dwarf wielded consisted of primarily large bladed, geometrical halberds and spears. Each dwarf also had a large rectangular tower shield that acted as a mobile barricade when linked together like the Spartan's phalanx.

They filled in a crucial niche that a Phalanx lacked. And that was dealing with foes who got past the spears.

"And here comes our support." Eitri applauded, pointing to the western corridor. "You're going to love this." he told Gri'nyr, sitting on the steps as he struck a match on his armor and lit his pipe.

From a distance away, Alaric could see more Spartans and dwarves, numbering around thirty each, equipped with ranged weaponry, running into view. The Spartans easily outran the dwarves, who were marching along at a solid, unrelenting pace. The group assembled themselves on elevated positions assembled behind the phalanx, made up of dead Xenomorphs. The dwarves took the higher ground while the Spartans ran up to the phalanx directly.

The Spartans, wearing a lighter variant armor suit covered with a long chiton tunic and upholding their up close nature; were hurling glowing javelins from a large holster on their backs. Their casts went over the phalanx in streaming arcs that erupted in to a blast of lightning upon impact with the ground or impaling a Xenomorph. They were picking their targets for maximum damage on the hoard, causing groups of bunched up Xenomorphs to fry from the lightning and causing them to loose their grouping, allowing the Yautja hunters and dwarves to cut them down.

It looked as if they were throwing lightning bolts like Zeus himself.

The dwarves on the other hand were wielding what would look like modern, though somewhat bulky, firearms. Magazine fed assault rifles, long barreled scoped rifles, support weapons that were like a backpack belt fed smartgun in the way it was handled and shoulder fired cannons like missile launchers or recoilless rifles.

Alaric would have guessed that they would be using conventional weapons. That was until he saw that they were anything but conventional. When several Xenomorphs broke free from the Yautja warriors and charged at the phalanx, with the intent of smashing right through the forest of spears, the dwarves fired. The rifles let out a sharp crack of power, a blue static muzzle flash and white bolts of energy shot from the rifles faster than Alaric could track. The machine guns shot out a blistering hails of projectiles with the same static muzzle flash and eye defying speed. The cannons on the other hand let out a deep throaty roar and bigger projectiles were shot from it.

The Xenomorphs didn't stand much of a chance as the projectiles impacted them. The long rifle rounds blasted huge holes in their carapace as the sheer number of rounds from the support weapons halted the charge, tearing chunks from their carapace protected flesh. The cannons rounds on the other hand tore the Xenomorphs apart into gory glowing chunks, showering the phalanx in their sizzling remains.

The Spartans' armor protected them from the acidic downpour, fizzing upon impacting the plating. The acid didn't have any effect on the dwarves either.

"You people's enthusiasm for kinetic weaponry never ceases to amaze." Kas'tigyr said in respect.

Eitri smiled under his beard as a large plume of smoke escaped from his mouth, seeping through his beard.

"Stick with what works, that's what we say." Eitri beamed, puffing away. "Why use fickle energy weapons when a good hard round from a kinetic gauss rifle does the job well."

Alaric's mind exploded when the weapon's name was revealed

'_Dwarves use railguns as firearms?!'_ Alaric exclaimed in his head. _'That's ship based ordnance they're using!'_

Railguns and other magnetic weaponry, as current technology would permit, are used primarily for starship armament and for certain military and industrial uses that could manage them. But never in a manner like this. The power requirements, even in this day and age, are still far too high for mainstream use. The bolt-guns the miners use, not designed for combat in mind, could only just punch through those Xenomorphs carapace and the closest Alaric had ever seen to what the dwarves did was seeing a Conestoga-class troop carrier use them against a xeno extremist ship, knocking out vital defense systems before boarding parties launched.

The amount of energy and advanced materials required to produce a weapon with that much power, in a compact and manageable form, was beyond what humanity could produce safely, in this day and age.

Alaric had to conclude that the dwarves' understanding of the tech was generations ahead of anything that humanity could make today.

"On the topic of what works, is this prison up to the Stone-kin's exacting standards?" Gri'nyr asked, leaning on the scythe.

Eitri gave the question some thought, blowing smoke out of his nose as he puffed his pipe. It would appear that the dwarf was used to more splendid sights.

"Your masons are almost getting as good as my people." he admitted, running a hand on the stone steps and feeling how smooth it was. "Finally starting to follow the stone along the grain. I reckon in a few more generations, it'll be good enough for us." He then saw the axes holstered on Gi'nyr. "Still got the axes that our smiths and I forged for you?"

"Of course, my friend. But the Patriarch requires something a little more... deadly." Gri'nyr stated, thumbing the scythe's blade to emphasize his point.

Eitri watched as the scythe's runes glowed as Gri'nyr's fingers brushed the metal, following his movements.

Alaric was starting so suspect that there was something unusual about the scythe from the way it was reacting to Gri'nyr's ministrations. It looked as if it was anticipating his movements. Like it was alive.

"Ah, your ancestor's fabled scythe." Eitri said. "I remember when I saw you use it against a whole swarm when we first met back on my homeworld."

Kas'tigyr chuckled as he remembered that day.

"I lost count of how many of the spawn he killed that day." he remarked. "Too many flying limbs in the way for a proper count."

"And on account that he dived head first into them, without us." Tse'los added.

"Though I tell you something." Eitri said, resuming his pipe blowing. "Our smiths had been trying to replicate your scythe and nothing we made could even come close to it. Damn fine craftsmanship, one of a kind."

Gri'nyr reverently held the scythe to himself.

"It _is_ the only one of it's kind." Gri'nyr clarified. "Like our progenitor."

Gri'nyr held a hand to his helmet. He had obviously received a notification on his suit's coms.

"Report." Gri'nyr spoke into his coms.

He nodded his head when he heard the news. He lowered his hand and turned to his brothers.

"The Stone has made planet-fall." he informed everyone. "Now, the Primarch has no escape."

Eitri was taken aback from the news, sputtering on his pipe and choking with smoke puffing out of his mouth and nose. Kas'tigyr and Tse'los on the other hand were dutifully silent.

"The Stone?" Eitri asked with a slight tone of shock. "Now that's one thing we cannot even start to understand."

"Only to those not of our progenitor's blood." Tse'los reminded.

"Then he must have had a morbid personality." Eitri concluded, blowing his pipe out. That stone, it's... I can't even describe it's power." he shuddered. "It's... death."

"Which is suitable for our needs." Gri'nyr clarified. "Ensures that the Primarchs cannot return through the hive mind." he clenched his scythe, his knuckles cracking. "But first, we need to make sure we slay every last of the Primarch's kin before hand."

"Let's get busy then." Kas'tigyr said, cracking his knuckles and the ley-lines in his gauntlets glowed. "The sooner we kill the beasts, the sooner we go home."

The Phalanx by had now hemmed the Xenomorphs to the tunnel from which they were still pouring from. The phalanx was bending even more but it would not break. The Yautja warriors were busy holding them back and also evacuating their wounded comrades.

"Still plenty for all of us." Eitri added, pocketing his pipe and hefting his hammer. "May the best fighter win."

On that cue, Gri'nyr and his brothers readied their weapons. Gri'nyr held his scythe diagonally across his chest, the blade curving down. Kas'tigyr clenched his fists and Tse'los held his crow's beak high, spike first. They braced their legs and Alaric saw their boots glow with energy from their ley-lines ornamentations, the wing like patterns shining brightly. They then leaped hard from the top of the stairs, their boots discharging a flash of power their armor leaving a glowing streak behind them as they sailed through the air. The distance they jumped made Alaric's eyes go wide.

Eitri looked at them with wide eyes as they landed right in the middle of the phalanx ring, right on top of the Xenomorphs, crushing those that they landed on. And he saw limbs were starting to fly as the brothers got to work. Alaric could tell from the dwarf's body language that he was annoyed by that spectacle.

"Not fair!" he shouted as he stormed loudly down the stairs after them.

Moving up close to the stairs for a better look, Alaric was amazed by what he was seeing. Gri'nyr and his brothers were, as simply as can be described, tearing the Xenomorphs apart the moment they landed inside the phalanx perimeter. Gri'nyr effortlessly wielded the scythe around him in a whirling motion, juggling the weapon between his hands, the glowing blade slicing cleanly through Xenomorphs like tissue paper. Kas'tigyr was a blur of punches and kicks and brutal grapples, breaking xenomorph carapace with every blow and pulling off serious acrobatic moves in the process. Tse'los attacked using both ends of his crows beak, using the spike to impale xenomorphs, wrench them down and deftly using the hammer to crush them when they are exposed.

But before Alaric could see anything else, the white flash blinded him again. And he found himself once again in darkness. The flare had died out. Alaric rubbed his eyes and forced the migraine back into the depths.

"Again?!" he exclaimed quietly. "Can't I even use a flare every now and then without seeing ghosts?"

He then thought about the last thing that he saw. Something that really sent his head into a spin

"Their armor has jump jets in their boots." he recalled. "So they're wielding Iron Man style armor, with jump jets in their boots?!" he scoffed. "Yet another thing we can't replicate in this day and age."

Powered armor was a hotly needed thing for humanity's armed forces to enable them to stand toe-to-toe with Xenomorphs and Yautja. So far, the closest realized gear available was militarized powerloaders used as mobile heavy weapon platforms, far from the highly mobile suits that have been portrayed many times in science fiction in the past. What they lacked in maneuverability, they more than made up for in heavy fire power.

And the fact that attaching jets powerful enough for flight to powerloaders was highly dangerous and downright stupid. The last attempt on a backwater planet called Solano's, moon, a live test of an experimental suit for combating Xenomorphs equipped with particle plasma projectors and protection against their acid blood, backfired so horribly that only one of the escorting marines managed to escape.

He heard the hawk land next to him, leaning its head towards him and watching. It appeared to be waiting for Alaric to recover from his plight.

"Did you see that?" Alaric asked it. "Did you see what I just saw?"

The hawk simply cocked its head at his question. Alaric had a slight understanding that the hawk didn't see what he saw. But than again, Alaric also had a faint suspicion that it might have known.

"Great, so I think being nearly frozen has screwed my head even more." he muttered.

He picked himself up, brushing the snow and webbing off, and the hawk hovered up to him. It then motioned him towards the steps before it hovered over the steps waiting for him to follow. Alaric was hesitant to proceed, considering the lack of light.

"No chance you could brighten up more?" he asked. "I want to be able to see where I'm going."

The hawk did indeed glow brighter in a literal flash, making Alaric blink from the increase exposure to light. The steps were now plainly in view, or as much as they could being covered in hive webbing and snow.

"Thanks." Alaric thanked, rubbing his eyes and keeping a hand up to make sure the hawk didn't continue to blind him of his night vision.

He looked at the steps.

"Well, gotta keep moving." he said, taking the first few steps down the flight.

The hawk guided Alaric down the stairs.

Alaric was being led deep and deeper into the temple. And so far, there had been no sign of the Xenomorphs that supposedly lurked here. That wasn't a good sign, though. Alaric didn't know if there were any Xenomorphs on patrol who just hadn't caught up with him yet or if they were trying to clear the tunnel after Alaric sealed it. He had to assume that they could possibly be doing both.

He managed to reach the bottom in relatively quick time, nearly slipping on hidden slicks of ice several times, and the hawk wasted no time in showing where to go. Alaric could see that the hawk was guiding him to the corridor to where the Xenomorphs were being hemmed in by the Yautja, Spartans, and dwarves. Leading ever deeper into the hive.

They moved across the hall, Alaric keeping an eye out for danger as they crossed. Alaric had an ominous feeling about the route the hawk was taking him.

Alaric cautiously approached the archway that the hawk was leading him to. He looked up and around, noting that through clear patches from the hive webbing, he could make out marks from fighting. Chipping, deep scrapes and ragged bullet holes from the projectiles weapons of the dwarves.

"Must have been hell of a fight." he whispered, tracing his hands over the damage.

Alaric, much to his discomfort, felt the migraine erupt once more. He clasped his head, stumbling to his knees again. The pain was getting more intense than the last time, pulsing into every inch in his head and Alaric was getting both frustrated and downright annoyed by it.

"Hey, I didn't use a flare!" he ground out in a strained voice as the blinding flash blinded him once more.

He opened an eye and he was greeted to the rearing, roaring form of a Xenomorph right in front of him. He scrambled back in shock, tripping hard onto the floor and reaching for an axe. At that point, he saw the scythe's glowing blade swipe down and impale the Xenomorph in the head, driving right down to the tang in a spurt of acid blood.

'_Another vision!'_ Alaric exclaimed in his head.

Gri'nyr came into view, wrangling the Xenomorph as it tried to wrench free. Gri'nyr's response was to raise a hand and bring it hard and fast onto the scythe's stave. The scythe, erupting in a bright flash of power, then sliced right through the Xenomorph, cutting it clean in half and both halves tipped over to their respective sides, sending its insides spewing out into a fizzing, steaming gory mess.

Alaric was speechless when he saw how effortlessly the scythe had dissected the Xenomorph. And he was more speechless when Gri'nyr suddenly flourished the scythe in a blurring fashion all around him. And the severed remains of several Xenomorphs cascaded around him into steaming heaps

Gri'nyr rested the scythe on his shoulder as the acid left on the blade fizzed into nothingness.

"Casualty report!" Grinyr commanded, turning back out to the hall.

Alaric's eyes followed Gri'nyr out to the hall and he could see a scene of carnage. Xenomorphs and pieces of Xenomorphs were piled high into ungodly corpse mountains as Yautja, Spartan and dwarf alike were clearing up. A mass of wounded warriors were being tended to and withdrawn. And a line of the dead were being recorded and archived before being transported respectfully away. Kas'tigyr was heaving dead Xenomorphs onto one of the piles, snapping the necks of each one in turn before chucking them onto the pile.

Tse'los came walking up, cleaning the blade on his crows beak.

"Four of our clan walking wounded, twenty incapacitated and, regrettably, six now with the ancestors." he explained.

"The Spartans?" Gri'nyr asked next, lightly unaffected by the grim body count.

"Twenty dead, thirty or so critically wounded, and many more wounded to some degree but they're insisting on staying till the end."

"Commendable." Gri'nyr said with honor. "And the Eitri's folk?

"Only five dead, the rest are being tended to as we speak." Tse'los accounted. "That is if you call heavy drinking tending to." he added pointing with his crows beak's shaft.

Alaric followed Tse'los' gestured and, sure enough, he could see the dwarves drinking in celebration, or numbing out the pain, from huge metal tankards. Words couldn't describe how the dwarves drank, heads tilted right back, gulping, what he guessed would be ale of some sort, loudly and giving off a loud belch after downing the whole tankard in short time.

It was a spitting image of how the stereotypical dwarves in fantasy worlds would drink.

"That's one way of recuperating." Gri'nyr said with a chuckle.

Yells were heard as a Spartan went flying through the air, hitting the ground hard in a shower of sparks. Gri'nyr and his brothers turned to the uproar and they saw that from under one of the piles, a Xenomorph had burst free and had caught several Spartans and a dwarf off guard. Another Spartan was caught in its claws, defiantly lashing out with his spear, catching it in the mouth. The Xenomorph hurled the Spartan into his comrades in retaliation, who had just joined shields, causing them to buckle into a heap from the impact.

Kas'tigyr stepped forth, rolling his robe's sleeves up for emphasis.

"I got this one." he assured them.

He charged at the Xenomorph, his boots stomping on the stone floor and robes billowing behind him.

"Make sure it's dead!" Gri'nyr shouted.

The dwarf was left standing alone against the Xenomorph, defiantly raising his axe and bringing his tower shield up. The Xenomorph, tearing the spear from its maw, roared loudly as the dwarf banged his shield with his axe as a sign of challenge.

The Xenomorph charged at the dwarf, intending to crush the stalwart fighter into the stone floor. Kastigyr leapt out, a fist pulled back as the Xenomorph got within mauling distance and he punched the Xenomorph right in the mouth, smashing several sharp fangs out with a loud crunch.

The Xenomorph recoiled from the impact as the dwarf pulled back and Kas'tigyr attacked again the moment his feet touched the floor. He delivered a punishing regime of sweeping punches and momentous kicks from his glowing gauntlets and boots, leaving bright trails behind them. Each impact cause massive fractures to erupt on the Xenomorphs carapace and chips to fly.

The Xenomorph lashed out with its tail but Kas'tigyr caught it in his arms, chitin cracking from his grip. Kas'tigyr gave a mighty heave, sweeping the Xenomorph high into the air by its tail before slamming it hard into the stone floor; face first, with a loud crunch. He then jumped and landed hard onto the prone Xenomorphs back, snapping it in half from the impact, before grabbing it by the head and pulled.

Kas'tigyr's armor glowed once again as the sound of crunching muscles was heard coming from the Xenomorph's neck.

Kas'tigyr wrenched the Xenomorph's head clean off with a loud snap. He then promptly hurled it up into the air, watched it come down before, in a manner that Alaric had not seen, gestured his hand to it. His gauntlet, to Alaric's puzzlement, projected a symbol in front of his hand, something that Alaric thought bore a resemblance to wind. The head came down to Kas'tigyr's level and he pushed with his hand. The head was pushed hard and fast by a wave of air pressure emanating from his hand and was sent flying into the nearest pillar where it ruptured into a pulpy mass and then slid slowly down the pillar, smoke trailing behind it.

Alaric was stunned once again from what he saw that his jaw dropped

'_I don't know how much more I can take'_, he thought as he rubbed his temple. _'Now they have magic powers?!'_

"Now it's dead." Kas'tigyr said, dusting his hands with pride before grabbing the battered corpse by the tail. "Things are getting harder to kill with every battle." he commented, dragging the corpse back on the pile as the dwarf walked up to him

"At least decapitation still works against them." the dwarf said. "But, they're now regenerating at an incredible rate and their carapace is getting tougher and tougher."

"Damn things are adapting well to our combined efforts." Kas'tigyr said walking back to his brothers as the dwarf walked of to his fellows. "You've got to admit it, they adapt well."

Tse'los wasn't as enthusiastic as his brother as Kas'tigyr walked up. He appeared to be more sympathetic.

"You can't help but pity them." Tse'los admitted. "What they used to be before the Patriarchs took them, I mean."

"They're not who they were any more." Gri'nyr reminded. "Any trace of their former selves are gone. Consumed by the Primarch."

Kas'tigyr at that point looked around for something. He looked up and around, expecting to see something swoop down.

"Where's your pet?" he asked his brother. "Haven't seen him since we touched down and you set him off?"

Gri'nyr chuckled.

"He's probably watching us right now." Gri'nyr said, looking up and around. "Keeping an eye out for danger."

He looked up at the stairs and he suddenly stood to attention sharply.

"Here she comes." he warned, indicating to his brothers towards the steps. "Attention!" he called.

Immediately, everyone in the hall stood to attention, forming neat lines as an expected visitor and an entourage arrived.

Alaric, as soon as he focused on what everyone was focused on, saw what was probably the most majestic, possibly royal, female Yautja he had seen by far walking down the steps. She was around seven feet tall, had the lack of a head crest as the other Yautja and she was clad in a very elegant armored suit and robes. Whereas the other suits were covered in solid armor plating, hers was more of a body suit that accented her form well. She was clad in long robes, envisioning the look of an ancient oracle, that trailed behind her. Her dreadlocks were equally long and exquisitely decorated with ornamentations. She was holding an ornate interlocking metal box in her hands, no doubt holding a scared relic of some kind. Her ornate mask, which seemed more life-like in construction, also had the clan glyph on it, and was decorated with arcane symbols of some kind.

She had to have fulfilled the role of a high priestess and possibly the matriarch from her style of dress.

Yautja, Spartans and dwarves alike knelt down before her, in respect and reverence, as she reached the bottom of the steps and passed them with her entourage of body guards who were also female Yautja. And they were dressed in the same style, but not nearly as majestic as she was. Each was armed with what looked like ornate metal staffs that was of a different style to other weapons that were seen. The staffs were more flowing than geometrical as the other weapons he had seen they were also inlaid with many precious looking stones, capped with a sharp leaf shaped diamond and fine tree root-like engravings.

Alaric had a strange feeling that these females didn't fight through physical means.

Gri'nyr and his brothers stood to attention before her as she approached. She stopped in front of Gri'nyr, who was looking somewhat tense from her presence.

"Gri'nyr." She greeted him in a rather formal manner. "Has the Primarch been contained?"

"Yes..." Gri'nyr started before he was interrupted.

"Then we can proceed." she continued. "Finish what the Ossians so arrogantly started."

She than walked past him in a manner that showed her lack of feelings towards him. Like they had an argument or falling out and she was still reeling from it.

Gri'nyr sighed as her bodyguards walked past, silently following their leader. The warriors in the hall resumed what they were doing, be it tending to their armor, their wounded or their grumbling stomachs.

"She's still upset about it. Even after all these cycles now." Gri'nyr whispered to himself, with a hint of empathy towards her.

Kas'tigyr and Tse'los shot him a look behind their masks as he turned to them. Gri'nyr's tone changed when he interpreted their body language.

"I never meant to hurt her." he clarified, with a hint of annoyance. "It wouldn't have worked anyway."

Gri'nyr walked off an annoyed sigh, resting his scythe on his shoulder blade down. He was going to check on his fellow clan brothers. Kas'tigyr and Tse'los shook their heads as their brother left them.

"Her heart never healed when Gri'nyr didn't choose her." Kas'tigyr said, sadly. "His heart belonged to another."

"And his sons only amplified it." Tse'los added. "She felt cheated."

Their attention was brought back to Gri'nyr as he rallied the troops.

"Brothers." he called out, gaining the attention of all in the hall as Kas'tigyr and Tse'los approached from behind him.

The warriors in the hall looked to him, ceasing their attention to their armor and weapons. The laying wounded raised onto their elbows, regardless of the pain it caused them. The dwarves were busy smoking their pipes and holding their tankards. The Spartans were polishing their shields and the Yautja were in the middle of meditating.

"Our mission is almost complete." Gri'nyr told them. "The Primarchss have been slain or imprisoned, freeing this galaxy's life from their corruption. Their spawn have all been slain, ensuring that they cannot return. With the death of this Patriarch, our duty will finally be fulfilled."

Murmurs of agreement were heard coming from the masses. All of them heartily agreed with Gri'nyr. And few sounded like they had been there since the beginning.

"Now, we have all lost much during these dark times. I won't lie about that." Gri'nyr stated. "Even my race, pride to blame, have lost much of our former power from refusing to fight them." He admitted before he gestured to the Spartans. "The oomans of Gaia were almost robbed of their right to forge their own path to the stars." He said before he gestured to the dwarves. "And the Stone-kin's culture was on the verge of annihilation, yet, like their mountain homelands, they did not break." he then bowed his head. "And, sadly, there are so many that had been consumed by the Patriarchs' hunger." he raised his head. "If no one stepped forward to fight, this galaxy would be devoid of life, only the hive mind would be left. The Ossians' greatest success and their greatest failure."

The dwarves yelled in agreement for the last part while some of the Spartans raised their spears in acknowledgement.

"There are many who gave their lives to ensure that we would survive." he reminded in a reverently and with respect. "Fathers. Brothers. Cousins. Sons. Many who died valiantly and some who just didn't have the luck. But their sacrifices were not forgotten."

Some of the masses bowed their heads. Most likely those who had lost said people during this battle or in a past battle.

"But, whatever happens after this day." Gri'nyr orated. "When you go back to your worlds, back to your loved ones that you defended far beyond your limits to protect, it will always be known that you stood against the darkness and never turned away. That you stood when others fled. And that, even when you pass on to join the ancestors and the memories of these times stale, it will always be remembered that you were a part of our clan. Part of the defiant few." he raised his scythe, the blade shining and runes glowing. "And a part of our Bloodline!"

The Yautja, Spartans, and dwarves let out a loud cheer, raising their weapons into the air as well with their leader. Gri'nyr's brothers simply stood silently but they nodded along with the masses.

The flash erupted once again, the cheers echoing loudly, and Alaric was once more in darkness, blinking from the change in light. Alaric felt around and he felt his way back up to the wall as the cheers died out. He subconsciously cleaned out his ears comically, feigning deafness.

"These visions are starting to get both strange, annoying and loud." he muttered, rubbing his head. "Still, an inspiring speech that was."

He looked around him. He couldn't see the shining hawk anywhere.

"And my guide has gone off somewhere." he added. "Brilliant."

He heaved himself up, back against the wall as the migraine seeped from his head. He shivered before rubbing his arms for warmth.

'_How long have I been here now?'_ He thought, rubbing his eyes. _'A few hours? A day?'_

This was one thing that was gnawing at Alaric's mind. He had no way of knowing how long he had been stuck in this hive. Or what time of the day that it was since there was no sun to give any clue.

And he could only guess what was happening at the colony. What might be happening to the initiates. And that only made him want to get back to them even more.

Alaric heard flapping wings as the hawk fluttered down to him, landing at his feet and looking up at him. He looked down.

"There you are." he said. "Been scouting ahead while I was have having a seizure?"

The hawk cocked its head as it processed Alaric's pun. And from the way it looked at Alaric, it wasn't amused with his joke

"Just trying to brighten the mood." Alaric muttered.

The hawk merely gestured down the tunnel, signaling Alaric to continue following it. Alaric followed with a shrug.

Alaric noticed after five minutes of walking that the hive was getting more and more difficult to navigate. This was on account that the tunnel was now being obstructed by tendrils of hive webbing that stretched from wall to wall, floor to ceiling in various angles. Alaric saw them as the hawk illuminated the surroundings and was perplexed by this layout

Alaric quickly guessed that this must be a tactical addition that these Xenomorphs implemented to easily defend the hive. Serving to slow down and obstruct invaders so the defenders can butcher them as they struggle.

Alaric hoped to avoid that fate.

However, he tripped over a snow hidden strand that he failed to notice and he fell hard into another strand, bouncing off as it cracked and landing on his back with a loud crunch of hive webbing. He immediately reached for a hand axe, expecting a Xenomorph to pounce out at him. Fortunately, no such thing happened.

"Fucking great." he muttered. "As if progress wasn't slow enough."

Alaric felt a sharp breeze sting his face and the hawk hovered up to him, getting his attention.

"All right, I'm coming." Alaric said, heaving himself up. "The sooner I'm out of here, the better." he rubbed his temple. "I don't need any more vision inducing migraines today."

After he got to his feet, he followed the hawk as it flew up ahead. Alaric followed suit, mindfully checking his every step. This slowed his progress down, but he thought it to be the best choice.

They soon arrived, with Alaric trudging along at a steady pace and having tripped again at the end, at a small hall junction with three other tunnels leading out. The hawk landed on a plinth on the central pillar of the hall. There was not so many of the obstructing strands here, only in the corners of the junction, so Alaric took the moment to stretch his limbs and get some warmth back into his body.

The hawk watched him as he stretched and did some attack maneuvers through the air. It looked like it was gauging Alaric's fighting ability. It wasn't as impressed as Alaric might have thought, but it noted that Alaric had good form and adaptability.

Alaric also noted that it was looking somewhat obsessively at his axes.

"Got a question about my axes?" he asked it.

It cocked its head at his question. Alaric was more then ready to illustrate his ownership of his precious heirlooms.

"I don't care if these axes once belonged to a Yautja, made by a dwarf or whatever." Alaric stated. "These axes belong to me."

The hawk than made a gesture that seemed like a shrug, like it didn't care what Alaric was saying. Like it knew something Alaric didn't about his axes.

"Look, if at some point my ancestors were gifted these axes from that Yautja Gri'nyr, okay. If it makes you happy." Alaric said, making something up just to placate the hawk.

The hawk merely tilted its head as the mention of the Yautja's name. It looked as if the hypothesis had touched a sensitive issue.

Alaric noticed the hawk's change in stature.

"Is that what happened?" he asked, hesitantly.

The hawk simply lowered its head, eyes down. It then flapped its wings and hovered in the air. It then flew off, Alaric watching it as it move to the adjacent corridor, where it nestled on the archway, waiting for him.

'_It knows something'_, Alaric surmised in his head. _'Something about my axes?'_

He intended to find out the truth when the opportunity arises.

"Where are you taking me now?" he asked the hawk, stretching his arms as he walked towards the hawk.

That was when Alaric heard something.


	22. Chapter 21

MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL!

-Falls off the soap box before getting back on-

Here is my Christmas present for you, the next chapter of the story.

in this instalment, Alaric comes across a horrific truth about the ancient xenomorphs, Ja'anya is trying to cope with Alaric and Kra'vyx's disappearances and Kal'deris soon finds that there is more to Alaric than meets the eye.

The inspiration for this chapter came from a deleted, later restored, scene from the original Alien 1979 movie. When Ripley finds Dallas and Brett in a horrific state.

I was intended to get this done sooner and have it beta read but, unfortunately, work had been taking the lead lately. And the fact I've been playing Dark Souls, which is a frickin' sweet game!

I will be posting the beta'ed version at a later time when it's available and please leave a comment on how you like this chapter and what I can improve. Also, if you're going to inquire on when the next chapter is coming, please do it in private messages.

Until then, read away and i'll see you again with the next chapter.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

-falls of the soap box again with the sound of breaking glass-

Update 20/3/2014: beta'ed version uploaded.

* * *

><p>Chapter 21- Metamorphosis, Emotions and Genetics<p>

A pain filled rasping moan was heard coming from nearby, filling the junction and possibly the whole temple with the ghostly sound. The sound of a dying man.

This unexpected noise was enough to make Alaric slide to the shadows, into a batch of hive webbing in hushed anticipation. He stayed in the shadows for a few tense seconds, a hand on one of his axes before he cautiously poked his head out and listened. He heard another moan, coming from the same source, coming from the same direction and judging from the volume and echoing, it was coming from the next chamber directly ahead.

Alaric processed what he had just heard in his head, having heard it before in the past on many a mission fighting a xenomorph infestation.

He must be near the egg chamber, where the unfortunate hosts would be interred. And the moans indicated that one poor soul was still alive, waiting for the birth to happen.

Alaric subconsciously reached for the flare gun in his belt. He swiftly cracked it open and the spent shell went pinging out as he reached for a fresh shot, one of only two left, from his pack. He inserted it into the breech and flicked the barrel back up, locking the breech.

The hawk fluttered down to where Alaric was hiding, almost like it was perplexed that Alaric was reluctant to follow. Alaric looked to the hawk and saw it cock its head towards the chamber. It was gesturing him to enter.

"Are you insane?!" Alaric whispered. "I can't go in there!"

The hawk simply repeated gesture as if to assert some authority over him. Alaric however had no intentions on following orders from a metallic hawk.

"If I go in there, I'm gonna get pounced by facehuggers!" he explained. "You're not the one who's gonna get a bug lodged down the throat."

The hawk merely repeated its gesture again, in a manner of saying 'Buck up' and swooped off towards to chamber. Alaric watched it fly to the entrance before hovering there, waiting for him.

"Oh, sod it." Alaric sighed, holstering the flare gun. "How can anything be worse than this?"

Alaric quietly headed over in the direction of the moans. He kept every step as silent as possible as he crept closer and closer, his boots crunching on the snow and webbing. He nearly tripped over them a few times, not seeing several protruding strands reaching out into the air. And they were getting more numerous the closer he crept. In fact, this part of the hive was starting to look more and more like a nightmarish spider's nest.

Christ, how can those bugs move in this stuff? He thought.

The hawk flew up into the chamber before nestling out of sight somewhere. Alaric followed suit, almost tripping over a tendril and losing his balance. Alaric quickly caught an overhanging strand for stability. It gave a small crack as his weight pulled on it. He paused for a few seconds, expecting a xenomorph to pounce at him. When it became apparent that it would not, he sighed softly as he continued on.

Alaric had now sneaked into a vastly high octagonal chamber, completely consumed in hive webbing, with thick tendrils spreading from wall to wall that gave the impression of a spider's lair and it was here that he would find the source of the moans. Alaric looked around to try and pinpoint where the moans were coming from and he soon found it on a central pillar, partially illuminated by a beam of light from above.

It was a miner entombed against the webbed stone, eight feet in the air, his head slumped down and his face out of view. No doubt he is waiting for the inevitable agonizing birth of the xenomorph young. However, there was two vitally important things missing. There were no eggs, opened or closed, or facehuggers, alive or withered husks, anywhere in this chamber or in any other chambers or rooms he ventured through. Not once did Alaric see one when he was trudging through the snow and hive webbing. Not once was he taken by surprise and potentially infected by the alien's spore.

If there were no facehuggers, then how did these particular bugs reproduce?

Getting closer and navigating his way through the obstructing hive tendrils, Alaric saw that this method of reproduction was nothing he had ever seen or thought possible.

The miner's appearance from what Alaric could see through the webbing was something that was disturbing and unnatural. The skin on his face was all discolored into blotches of diseased grey that glistened in the faint light and his features looked all pinched yet bloated. Almost like his skin was ready to rupture. He could also see arterial pulsating tendrils that came from the webbing and appeared to be fused with the miners flesh.

"What the..." Alaric whispered.

The miner at that point noticed that Alaric was in front of him. He lifted his head towards Alaric with the creaking of hardened flesh and cartilage webbing, revealing closed eyes that seemed to be fusing shut.

"Oh my god." Alaric gasped at the sight

"Kill me." the miner rasped weakly in a hoarse whisper.

Alaric got closer to the miner, turning his head around in case this was a trap before resuming his attention.

"Kill me... please." the miner begged again.

Alaric was having difficulty in understanding what the miner was being subjected to. What he saw was nothing like he had ever seen xenomorphs do to their captives. Captives were either used for hosts or, if not suitable to be hosts, livestock.

This was something else.

"What did... they do to you?" Alaric asked.

The miner weakly lifted a free finger, pointing behind Alaric to the opposite wall from where Alaric entered. Alaric turned to that direction and, after following the miner's direction, could see only darkness, save for a distorted shape in front of him. Reaching for a flare, the last in his pack, he held it up and ripped the cap off. When the flare burst into life, he saw a horrific, even demonic sight. Something that made him recoil in horror.

"By my ancestors!" Alaric gasped, stepping back in shock.

It another miner, but only barely. What Alaric saw was an unholy pupae, a combination of xenomorph and human that was made more horrific by the flickering red light that the flare emitted. The body was blackened, enlarged to far beyond normal human size and the skin was turning into what was a thin carapace. Protrusions on the back gave hint of the distinctive dorsal spines. The hands and feet were bearing claws that had ripped through gloves and boots. The face was the most disturbing as it bore a characteristic visage of the xenomorphs in which it had the eyeless face, the former human eyes now dead and vestigial, and the bared teeth twisted into that predatory grin.

"Oh, hell no." he whispered before looking up and around, his hand reaching for one of his hand axes as his eyes widened. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me!"

He was seeing more and more miners, colonists and the occasional marine entombed all around the chamber in varying states, ranging from more or less human to more or less xenomorph. Only the clothing that could be partially seen gave hints towards their identities. He numbered around ten that he could immediately see in this chamber and he saw vastly more hollow husks nearby. A hollow shell of a human opened up like the cocoon of a butterfly down the middle and somehow assimilating into the hive wall seamlessly.

And much to his disgust and anger, he could see smaller husks too. It didn't take much to guess who had previously been occupying those spaces.

One colonist husk that caught his attention was odd in that it looked like it had been torn apart with only a small fraction of it, being both lower legs, right arm and the top of the head still adhered on the wall. Could one of the colonists have broken free or was it disposed of because of rejection?

This is getting more fucked up by the second, Alaric thought.

His eye soon caught notice of a husk that had all but been assimilated into the webbing, only faint outlines and tattered shreds of clothing were left as an indicator. This particular husk looked old, very old. Likely, it was one of the first colonists to be taken like Foreman Hernandez explained.

Alaric crept over to the remains, still anticipating a facehugger to pounce at him at any minute and, after a quick examination, found something on the husk's tattered clothing. He plucked an identification badge from the disintegrating fabric and examined it. It was damaged and degraded by the hive environment but enough was left for Alaric to see the profession of this deceased husk.

Colonial Administrator.

Alaric checked a husk nearby, a marine, and he could definitely see a captain's stripes insignia on a tattered sleeve. Another husk was shown to be what was left of the colony's comms officer. He then remembered what foreman Hernandez had mentioned that all the command staff of the colony were the first to be taken.

Alaric at that point had a grisly thought encroach into his head. And a much more grisly event was about to unfurl.

A sharp cracking of bone and chitin was heard coming several meters to his right. Alaric instinctively dived into a mass of webbing, forcefully extinguishing the flare and casting him in darkness once more. Quickly getting sufficiently camouflaged, he watched something that would push even his bravery to the limit. One of the mutated comatose colonists not far from him was being torn open, from the inside. Large cracks vertically emerged in the middle of the colonist, leeching from top to bottom and widening in sporadic pulses, acidic ichor trickling and hissing through the cracks.

How big is this chestbuster?! Alaric thought with dread as the thought of an anaconda sized infant xenomorph slithered into his mind.

The miner strained to turn his head towards the sound of fracturing chitin. Even though he was completely blind, it appeared he could perfectly see or know what was going to happen.

"From the... cocoon of its old self." he rasped, getting Alaric's attention. "The butterfly emerges."

"What?" Alaric asked.

Then, with an almighty crack, the colonist split in half and a figure tumbled out of the husk in a torrent of steaming ichor, landing on the webbed floor with a loud squelch. Alaric eyes went wide as he hugged the shadows closer. The figure that fell stayed motionless for a few seconds before it started to heave itself up, slime and ichor dripping to the hive floor. Alaric could see that the figure was in fact a xenomorph. However, it looked stunted and misshapen from being inside the host, sporting a more human shape and appearance. But then it underwent a metamorphosis reminiscent of a demonic werewolf.

With a loud rearing roar that sounded human but then morphed into a xenomorph screech, it changed and anything that was once human was no more.

It enlarged itself with loud crunching of chitin and flesh as it writhed and expanded, the lithe figure enlarging with hardened musculature and armored carapace reforming as it grew at an alarming rate. Its head became elongated and expanded into the broad curving shield head. A barbed segmented tail slithered out and swelling to its full size. Its flexing hands sprouted curved claws that glinted in the low light and the dorsal spines on the back grew like thorns on a rose bush.

Alaric's could only watch with eyes that seemed ready to pop out with shock as this bug grew to a full size of twelve feet in a matter of moments. And in a form that looked far more evolved for a fight. It was much larger, more heavily armored with its head amour enlarged and solid like a snowplow, covered in a menagerie of curved bladed spikes and sloping chitin plating. From the look of it, it would be nigh impossible to even dent its armor.

It was the xenomorph's version of a living tank from the gates of hell.

Alaric watched the developing xenomorph dash off impossibly down and out the chamber with thundering paces, still forming its body. No doubt it was going to be part of the next raiding party. Alaric cautiously heaved himself out of the webbing as soon as the xenomorph was a good distance away.

"What... the... fuck?" was all he managed to blurt.

The hawk at that point fluttered down from where it had been hiding and landed on Alaric's shoulder. Alaric hadn't noticed as he was too engrossed with what he had just witnessed.

Alaric looked down the tunnel the xenomorph thundered down, looked at the miner's tortured form, looked to the I.D badge, and looked back at the dripping husk from which the demonic had burst from. The pieces of the puzzle had joined in his mind, as much as he would want to deny it.

"No wonder they knew so much about the colony." Alaric whispered, dropping the late administrator's badge. "They are the colonists!"

The miner retched painfully, gaining Alaric's attention.

"It's inside my head." the miner rasped. "Calling."

Alaric turned back to miner, the hawk shifting on his shoulder

"Calling?" he questioned "What's calling?

The miner strained as his body rippled and pulsated from his internal structure changing. Alaric as his sight adjusted, saw that the grey blotches on the miner's face had spread and hardened into a darker thin carapace that restricted the movement of the miners facial muscles.

"It. The ancient bug." the miner said in a slightly numb tone.

"Primarch?" Alaric clarified.

The miner nodded with the sickly creaking of hardening carapace.

"It knows through us." The miner strained. "Everything it knows... about us, it knows through us... as it takes us."

"The Hive Mind." Alaric surmised. "The Hive Mind learns from those it turns?"

The miner nodded before he retched and coughed painfully, coughing up lumps of blackish blood and what could be bits of his lungs at Alaric's feet. And Alaric swore that some of the lumps were pulsating.

That would explain why the officers were the first to be turned, Alaric theorized. Gained advance knowledge of the colony before they attacked in force. Explains how they knew exactly what to destroy.

"The voices..." the miner strained. "The voices never stop...calling. So many."

He breathed in painfully, likely confirming that he had indeed coughed his lungs up.

"It's hunting you. Wanting vengeance." he rasped.

"Vengeance?" Alaric questioned. "Oh yeah, I did kill a lot of its spawn, since crashing here with the others."

The miner feebly shook his head. As much as hive tendrils would let him at any rate.

"No. Vengeance... older." the miner corrected.

"'Older'?" Alaric asked.

"Vengeance on... the ones who imprisoned it." the miner clarified. "Hunters... Dwarves...and Spartans." he breathed deeply. "The blood that it... says you share."

Bloody hell, Alaric thought. And I thought my family held a grudge.

The miner breathed painfully.

"It... unanticipated your... existence." he added. "Thought... the blood was...all slaughtered on this world." he retched. "It won't stop until you're dead." the miner revealed "It's... fearful of you."

Fearful of me? Alaric thought with question.

"Why?" Alaric asked. "Why is this Primarch afraid of me?"

The miner could only strain and cough painfully again, spewing more chunks. Alaric was clearly starting to get concerned by this. Especially since he could hear more crunching coming from within the colonist's body.

"Please, you... must help me." the miner begged "I can't become... one of them. I can't... hold on... any longer."

Alaric stepped closer, nearly tripping over a tendril.

"Want do you want?" he asked.

The miner then painfully opened his eyes with all his strength with a sickening tear of flesh. Alaric saw that the miner's eye sockets were now occupied by black spheres, void and emotionless. Blackish blood seeped down his cheeks like tears that conveyed the miner's plea.

Alaric was suddenly struck with the memory of a Xeno Extremist patriarch he had killed in the past. When he was thirteen to be exact.

"Mercy... death." the miner begged. "I want the voices... to stop."

Alaric was reluctant to comply with this request. He had never struck an innocent down with his axes in his life and he wouldn't start now. However, though he didn't like doing it, mercy killing was an exception to the rule. And he had done it many times over his career as a marine. To those in the late stage of bearing a xenomorph parasite with no chance or hope of removal.

"There's no way to stop... reverse what they've done to you?" he asked, wanting to be sure of the right action.

The miner shook his head weakly as the tendrils refused to allow his movements.

"You can resist... but eventually all... succumb." he then gestured to the half torn husk on the wall. "He... resisted better. Was...disposed." He retched again, his head slumping down. "We're... already dead... when they caught us."

Alaric at that point had a thought of great importance. If the miner was in fact linked, more accurately chained, to the Hive Mind, than he could possibly know what the xenomorphs were planning.

Any information he could learn from the bugs would be of great help to the others and to aid his own escape from the hive.

"I'll help you. But first, I need something in return." Alaric proposed.

The miner raised his head at Alaric's condition.

"Something?" the miner rasped.

"The voices." Alaric asked. "What are they saying? What are they planning?"

The miner strained as he felt his body writhe again. Almost as if the xenomorph taint coursing within his flesh was resisting to the idea of divulging information.

"I can't..." The miner wheezed. "The voices... My head..."

"Please." Alaric urged. "I have to know what they're up to. Think of the colony and how this information would help."

The miner wheezed as an audible crunch was heard coming from his back. Alaric recoiled from the sudden crack but he had to try to get the miner to comply.

"Do you have family? Alaric asked, hoping to get through. "Family not taken by the bugs?"

The miner looked to him. Alaric took this a sign he was getting through.

"A brother? Sister?" Alaric queried.

The miner coughed up a large blackish and bloody lump. Alaric had a feeling that might have been his appendix or even his spleen. It would seem the process that the miner was undergoing removed non-essential body parts.

"Nephew and... sister-in-law." The miner rasped, before he tilted his head towards the half torn husk. "My brother's."

Alaric now had a hold.

"Think of them." He urged. "You could help protect them, spare them from this... fate. But only if you can tell me what the Primarch is planning."

The miner looked to him, with as much emotion as his void eyes would allow.

"Promise me... that you'll save them?" he asked

"I swear it." Alaric confirmed.

The miner nodded weakly as he tried to focus his tortured head, taking deep pained breaths.

"The voices..." he wheezed. "So many..."

"Concentrate." Alaric pleaded. "What is the Primarch planning?"

The miner strained as he tried to make sense of the voices that were plaguing his mind. Alaric could only guess what mental anguish the miner was going through. Especially as the tendrils that were latched to the miner's face started to pulsate sharply.

"It's... plotting." the miner interpreted. "Biding time. Saying the prey are... walking into a trap. Leaving safety... for a vain hope... of escape."

Alaric processed what the miner told him. And it didn't take him long to put the pieces together.

The colony. Alaric realized. They must be planning to evacuate!

This was bad news. The colony could not possibly hope to survive either the xenomorphs if attacked, or survive the harsh blizzards that covered the planet. They must be that desperate to take their chances for escape.

"I sealed the tunnel to the hive." he pointed out. "The bugs would have to dig themselves out before they could even attack."

The miner shook his head at Alaric's hopeful point.

"A tunnel." the miner corrected. "It knew... you would target the most... obvious route."

Alaric cursed.

"Bastards led us on a goose-chase in that case." he muttered. "Where is it going to go? Where can it possibly go?"

The miner simply raised his head up towards the light. The light showed off the reflecting blackness of his xenomorph eyes as he looked up.

"Up." he revealed.

Alaric quickly understood what the miner meant. The vast shaft that resided above the temple. That was the only feasible way out of the cavern from which the temple was entombed.

"Of course. Stupid question." Alaric muttered.

The miner then retched again with more force

"It's close to escaping..." The miner continued "Intends to use... angels... to escape this planet..."

That was the moment when his spying was terminated in a horrific way.

The miner gave out a loud strained scream from his teeth that echoed throughout the chamber and possibly the whole temple. Alaric stepped back in shock, stumbling over the strand he had previously avoided, crashing into the webbing covered ground as he saw the distinctive dorsal spines erupt with a loud tearing of hardened flesh from the miner's back in a torrent of blackish blood and ichor, spreading out like demented chitinous wings. The miner then gave out an ironic sigh of relief.

"I thought... they would never... come out." the miner rasped.

"Fuck me!" Alaric exclaimed.

The miner retched and strained again in unfathomed pain. Alaric could see the miners teeth elongate and his mouth horrifically twist into the distinctive grin that the xenomorphs possessed with frightening speed. Blackish blood and ichor seeped out of the rupturing skin.

"Fuck me, sideways!" Alaric added, quickly getting to his feet

The miner was now without a doubt on his last legs. It would seem that he had revealed sensitive information and he was being punished for it as the process sped up with horrific and excruciatingly painful results. And the last vestiges of his humanity were quickly being consumed as xenomorph replaced human.

"Hurry... before I lose consciousness..." the miner begged, as his entombed hands grew claws with cracking bones filling the air. "Kill me!"

Alaric swiftly drew his axe, whispering a litany of sanctification.

"Rest now." Alaric whispered.

Alaric plunged his axe dead centre into the miners chest with a sharp slice of transforming flesh and bone. Right into his tortured heart. The miner's head dropped down and he drew his terminal breath before dying seconds later, blackish blood dripping out of his maw of a mouth. Alaric retrieved his axe with a swish of severed flesh.

The transformation was halted, mercifully.

Alaric looked at his axe and saw the miner's blood encrusting the blade. It was slightly fizzing against the metal.

These bugs are like demons, Alaric thought in anger as he cleaned his axe. Rather than use people as hosts, they turn people into xenos. Coldly efficient.

But in the minds of Xeno Extremists, salvation by rebirth.

Alaric took that moment to go over what the miner had divulged.

If it was true what the miner said, and that these bugs could know through each other, then he was in more danger then he realized. They probably knew he was in the hive right now, or even before he entered the temple from the shaft he fell from, maybe tricking him into thinking he could sneak past. This just added another variable into his escape plans

And the miner's warning about their plan to attack the colony was even more urgent. Alaric had no idea when the xenos would launch the assault or when the colony would evacuate. Either could have happened already. And by angels, Alaric figured the miner meant the archangels. If they're overdue, than a rescue force would be sent to investigate and that meant ships. Ships that the Primarch could use to escape.

He had to get out.

He had to get to the others first.

Alaric turned to the hawk on his shoulder. It shifted its feet for a better perch.

"This is why you led me here?" he asked it. "To show the truth behind these bugs?"

The hawk nodded.

"Did those hunters, dwarves and my ancestors know the truth?" Alaric questioned.

The hawk nodded again and Alaric sighed heavily.

God, Alaric thought. I can't imagine what it must be like. Killing something that used to be someone you know.

Alaric looked to the smaller husks, anger slowly rising.

They even take the souls of children, he silently fumed. What form where they twisted into?

His hair twitched, subconsciously responding to his emotions, and the hawk was slightly taken aback from what it saw. In fact, it looked slightly surprised. The hawk fluttered off his shoulder and hovered in front of him as if to get a better look at him with anticipation in its eyes as it darted its head around.

It would appear that it was more confident of what it had thought Alaric to be.

Alaric, as soon he calmed himself, noticed the hawk as it hovered within an inch of his face. Invading his personnel space.

"Getting a bit personal, aren't you?" Alaric said, raising a hand and ushering it from him.

The hawk landed down at his feet and looked up at him as Alaric holstered his axe.

"Now, after all the shit I've seen, migraine inducing visions and corrupted colonists above all, please lead me out of this hive." he sincerely asked. "And no more sight seeing. I've got a literal deadline to meet."

The hawk gave a small call before it flew high up the chamber. It then swooped to the opposite corridor on the other side of the chamber. Alaric dutifully followed, keeping a vigilant lookout for any danger as he trudged his way through obstructing hive tendrils. As much as he would want to barge his way out of this chamber of horror, he wisely chose not to. As such, he could see more and more colonists undergoing the horrific metamorphosis and the withered empty husks of their former selves. And sure enough, much to his reluctance, he did stumble across one lone child undergoing the metamorphosis.

Alaric paused as he saw it. Though it was mostly covered in the hive webbing, he could make out features that set it apart from the others. If you could call oversized claws and spines on a small body as features.

Alaric was reluctant to leave them to their fate. But he vowed that he would put them out of their misery when the time came. Be it when they were fully turned or if he came back to the hive.

He'd put his money on the former.

Alaric reached the end of the chamber and saw the hawk perched on a tendril in the corridor waiting for him. Alaric gave one last look behind him to the multitude of colonists awaiting their unholy rebirth and he shook his head.

"I'll kill this Primarch." he whispered to the unfortunate souls waiting for their fate. "I swear it."

Alaric turned to the hawk.

"Lead the way." he said. "Before danger catches up with us."

The hawk flapped its wings, hovered high above him and then swooped down the tunnel as Alaric followed behind.

But what Alaric didn't know was that danger was already keeping an eye on him as a xenomorph silently emerged from the webbing high above the chamber as he trudged his way down the corridor.

Back on Lai'kairis, Ja'anya was going about her normal routine. She had managed to freshen and steel herself for the day, considering not getting much sleep the night before. Though she still had the dark circles under her eyes.

She was focusing on getting through the day, trying not to think about what could be happening to Alaric and her brother. A myriad of things had been buzzing in her head but her nightmare was the most prominent. Alaric being devoured by cold darkness.

And she would not have if it wasn't brought up during the midday meal.

Ja'anya was sitting at a table with two other medical caste huntresses, and also childhood friends, quietly eating a dish of smoky stew while the huntresses talked about current events such as patient progress to the latest jewelry on display in the markets. Ja'anya still had her shield-hawk pendant around her now soothed neck.

She had spent the morning assisting at the hospital, even checking in on Vyl'kar to see how he was going. And she was surprised at how the giant hunter showed some compassion towards Alaric, the first she had heard anyone give to her friend and, soon to be, lover. She had assumed that it was from his mutual respect for Alaric.

Others she had heard, as her mother had informed, were not so compassionate. And she had kept well away from them so as not to give them another target. She had no intention of hearing what they thought of her.

Her thoughts were brought to the present as the gossip turned to a more, shall we say, saucier topic

"The Season and festival are in a few months." one of the huntresses, pale grey with a pseudo-camouflage pattern, mentioned.

"I know. I can already smell it in the air." the other, forest green with markings that resembled a carpet of leaves, said.

Ja'anya lowered her spoon at the mention. She clicked her mandibles in slight exasperation.

This isn't helping, Ja'anya thought, rubbing her eyes as she remembered her mother bringing it up.

Kari'kalei'lou. That was the name of the festival of fertility. This was the time, the most favorable by far, when most of the Yautja would pair up and continue the species. It was considered to be traditional and good luck to conceive during this time, as it was supposed to be guided by the gods themselves. And it was also an excuse to brag about who's got the best partner, or partners, for the coupling.

"Have you had any takers yet, Quel'lyr?" the first huntress asked.

Quel'lyr tilted her head in thought, letting her dreadlocks sway. She then grinned as she brought up her potential suitor.

"Do you know of a hunter by the name of...Ryl'zant?" she asked, with a hint of pride in her tone.

Her colleague thought for a moment, trying to remember where she had heard the name. Her eyes widened when she remembered.

"Isn't he the one who hunted an entire flock of Razor-Wyrms?" she asked.

"And during a feeding frenzy I'd like to add, Fyr'lyn." Quel'lyr added with smugness.

She sighed in admiration.

"I don't know if he is brave, crazy or both?" she questioned. "But he is so good to look at."

"Don't tell me he's interested?" Fyr'lyn asked, not believing what her friend was insinuating.

Quel'lyr simply giggled in response.

"He is?!" Fyr'lyn concluded with wide eyes.

"When he walked into the hospital that day, I knew he was the one for me." Quel'lyr admitted. "And he even gave me a trophy, one of the wyrms' heads, as a gift."

She reached under the table and brought out a finely made metallic weaved sack. She opened it, reached inside carefully, and showed off her gift. The head was about one foot in length, roughly resembled a draconic cobra complete with a segmented hood that shone in the light.

The Razor-Wyrm is a voracious winged reptilian situated on the stormy world of Anemoi II, named by humans after the ancient Greek gods of the winds for its unpredictable weather patterns. The Wyrms were on average ten to fifteen feet long and resembled a multi-winged serpent. Not unlike those dragons depicted in ancient Chinese mythology. It got it's name on account that it's scales and membranous translucent wings were razor sharp and, given enough velocity, can cleave through a star-ship's hull cleanly.

In a feeding frenzy, a swarm comprising of several dozen wyrms could eviscerate a whole heard of prey into bloody shreds in seconds in a whirlwind of razor sharp passes.

Fyr'lyn was immediately impressed with the specimen. She leaned over for a closer look, brushing a finger along to feel the metallic smoothness of its scales. But, she stroked a little too far on the hood and she quickly brought her finger back with a wince.

"They weren't joking about the name." She said, looking at her finger and seeing a thin rivulet of blood seep forth.

"Ryl'zant had already added these scales to his armor." Quel'lyr told her as she placed the head back into its sack. "And they look stunning the way they shine in the light."

That was when Quel'lyr noticed that Ja'anya wasn't paying attention to her trophy. She was just staring into space almost like she was in a trance.

"Ja'anya, are you all right." Quel'lyr asked

Ja'anya blinked and looked to them.

"Yes." she replied. "I'm fine."

Her friends felt that she was anything but fine. They all noticed that Ja'anya wasn't her usual optimistic self this morning.

"You sure?" Fyr'lyn questioned, wiping her finger on her napkin. "You haven't been yourself this morning."

"Yes, I'm just... worried for my brother." Ja'anya said, brushing off their concern.

"Don't worry." Quel'lyr assured. "More hunters have volunteered this morning to search for him and his friends. They'll be found soon enough."

Ja'anya wasn't so confidant, considering the nightmares she had been having.

"I hope so." Ja'anya said.

Fyr'lyn at point decided to carry on with the topic at hand.

"Anyone of interest to you this Season, Ja'anya?" Fyr'lyn asked.

Ja'anya was silent as she subconsciously reached for her hawk pendant and clasped it.

Ja'anya wasn't going to bluntly reveal the fact that she and Alaric were together. Not directly at any rate. What would they think if they knew?

Would they be supportive or disgusted?

"Well..." she started, thinking of what to say as she fiddled with a stray dreadlock. "No, I haven't had much interest shown."

Her friends looked almost shocked. It wasn't the first time that Ja'anya had said no males had interest in her. Ever since Ja'anya came of age, she said she had no interest shown to her or had given any to the few who have.

"Still?" Quel'lyr asked. "I mean, you have looks that most females would make a pact with demons to get."

"It's the size difference, isn't it?" Fyr'lyn stated. "It's always the size difference."

Quel'lyr jabbed a sharp talon into Fyr'lyn's arm at the mention of Ja'anya's 'disability', provoking a sharp yelp.

Ja'anya sighed at the mention to her height. One of the factors about her size being off-putting was the chance that she would not be able to bear a child to term. Considering the fully grown height of an average Yautja, being between seven to eight feet in size, and her own below average size, pregnancy was a risk not only to her but to the pup as well.

What use was she to a male if she couldn't bear his child?

"No, not that." Ja'anya corrected. "I just... Well, no one has appealed to me."

"How so?" Fyr'lyn asked

"'How so?'" Quel'lyr questioned. "You know Ja'anya. Most males are too 'head-butting' for her."

"Oh yeah." Fyr'lyn remembered before she chuckled. "I remember those two idiots who drank themselves into a stupor trying to impress her."

Ja'anya at that point chose to subtly reveal that it was Alaric she had chosen.

"It's that... Alaric has certain qualities that males of our race lack." Ja'anya said, with a slight tone of apprehension.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were silent.

"Alaric?" Fyr'lyn inquired. "That's your ooman isn't he?"

Ja'anya almost blushed at that observation. An indirect but accurate observation.

"Yes." she answered. "My ooman companion."

"I think it was impressive him being able to defeat Sil'cais." Fyr'lyn said. "I saw the terrified look on the bastard's face at the Arbitrators Hall. It's not often that an ooman defeats a bad blood."

"Or have beaten Vyl'kar, one of our best hunters." Quel'lyr added. "Even if it is a little... unnerving.

She was no doubt referring to when Alaric went into Rage and almost killed Vyl'kar.

"Yes. Alaric is... quite the warrior." Ja'anya said.

"Speaking of which, what qualities does Alaric have that our men don't?"

Ja'anya rested the hand cradling her hawk on the table, thinking about what to say.

Where could she start?

"Well, Alaric had plenty of... experience in fighting our kind." Ja'anya started. "Something which most oomans never survive. So that makes him on par with our own."

She tilted her head in admiration.

"He's more... refined in mind and body." she continued. "He's intelligent and thoughtful. Always thinking ahead or thinking fast when need arises. There are times when he has a solution for everything. And, most of all, he has an... inner fire in his heart that directs him to push on through the most difficult of obstacles and never falter. And that allowed him to survive things that others couldn't."

"With a level of skill that great, I'm curious to know at what age did Alaric make his first kill?" Fyr'lyn asked.

"Oh, that's a good thought." Quel'lyr said in realization. "Tell us Ja'anya, when did Alaric make his first kill?"

Ja'anya remained silent at that question. It wouldn't be wise to reveal that traumatic event from Alaric's past. Especially since Alaric had placed a large amount of his hard-to-earn trust when he told her.

And she wasn't going to betray that trust.

"He made his first kill when he was in his early teens." she told them as convincingly as she could.

She was relieved when they bought it.

"Barely a man and he made a kill?" Quel'lyr said in a mixture of disbelief and skepticism "Well, he must have gotten fortunate at that time."

"He has been training since his was a small pup." Ja'anya clarified. "He wasn't inexperienced at that moment if that's what you're suggesting.

"And what did he kill?" Fyr'lyn asked. "Was it Khainde Amedha?"

Ja'anya rapped her claws as that moment of Alaric's life involved one of the groups she despised with a passion.

"Those fanatical oomans that think the Khainde Amedha are gods." she revealed.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn cringed when they heard that. Xeno Extremists were regarded by Yautja as lower than humans as they constantly strive to spread the xenomorphs across the galaxy at the expense of their own race. Killing Xeno Extremists was considered as bringing order to the chaos they try to spread.

But that doesn't mean that hunters didn't relish the chance of hunting the xenomorphs during the infestation that followed.

"Good riddance." Fyr'lyn declared. "Those oomans don't even qualify to being ooman."

"Indeed." Quel'lyr agreed. "They foolishly see themselves as the Khainde Amedha."

Quel'lyr leaned on her elbows, head resting on her intertwined fingers. She was clearly interested as to learn more about Alaric.

"Well... what other things have Alaric done?" she asked with intent.

"Yes, tell us Ja'anya." Fyr'lyn beckoned.

Ja'anya almost smiled as she went about telling them of Alaric's exploits in the Marine Corps, all the missions that Alaric had told her and doing her best to recreate the events as her told them.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn listened with interest, especially the tale of when Alaric had beaten a praetorian with his bare hands. When Alaric was fifteen that is, which added an aura of skepticism. And they were impressed when Ja'anya told them of how Alaric single-handedly killed a xenomorph queen by using a marine APC as an impromptu battering ram.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were especially impressed with a tale of Alaric single-handedly wiped out a whole hive of xenomorphs with only his axes.

Ja'anya had also told them about Alaric's encounters with hunters, how each time he had resorted to using a combination of his wits and fighting prowess, using the environment to offset the Yautja's advantage in technology. Alaric preferred using stealth with skill than technology.

Alaric over his time as a marine had tallied up twenty hunter kills, ranging from using his axes to forcing one through a blast furnace and other kills of various methods depending on the location.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn cringed when Ja'anya mentioned Alaric had, unintentionally, rammed a hunter into a large spike... butt first. Alaric had intended for a chest impalement but the hunter got up at the last second.

At that point, a hunter came walking up as Ja'anya was just stating on how she came across Alaric. He was all armored up, no doubt he returned from a hunting trip or sparring match, with his mask on his belt. He was holding a large ceramic tankard that no doubt was containing C'ntlip or some other alcoholic beverage.

"Hello ladies." he greeted, interrupting Ja'anya's story.

Ja'anya abruptly stopped talking when the hunter opened his mouth. The hunter saw the annoyed looks on Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn's faces.

"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asked, apologetically.

"Yes, you did." Quel'lyr scolded "Ja'anya was just telling us about her last hunt."

The hunter looked down and caught notice of Ja'anya, having missed her before on account of his size.

"Ah, you must be the huntress with that ooman." he surmised. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

Ja'anya didn't answer. She didn't even look up to the hunter.

"what?" The hunter asked, mildly offended. "I said I was sorry."

"Do you mind?" Fyr'lyn asked with slight annoyance. "Ja'anya's brother is missing along with Alaric, in case you haven't heard the gossip."

"I've heard the ramblings and I apologize in that respect." the hunter said before he plunked himself down on one of the cushions. He then placed his tankard on the table.

"For one thing, I'm glad that ooman is gone." the hunter admitted, "Gives us a chance to regain our pride."

Considering the amount of hunters that Alaric had defeated, Vyl'kar being pulverized and also defeating the notorious bad blood Sil'cais, some hunters had developed a despising and mostly jealous attitude towards Alaric and his abilities.

"I've seen him spar and, frankly, I don't believe it." he continued.

"What's there to believe?" Quel'lyr asked him. "I've seen him spar, Alaric has beaten every single hunter he had come across."

"How, HOW, can a human beat four dozen of us?" the hunter questioned. "I've hunted plenty of oomans and none of them could beat a group of us, or even consecutively defeat multiple hunters." He raised his tankard. "There is something not right about that. It's... unnatural." he said.

"Sounds like you're jealous?" Fyr'lyn guessed in a somewhat teasing way.

Ja'anya inwardly smiled while the hunter was offended by the proposition.

"Jealous?" he said. "Jealous of an ooman? I'm not jealous. I'm insulted."

The then took a swig out of his tankard before placing hard on the table with a loud clank of ceramic.

"And another thing I noticed is that there is usually a large gathering of females whenever he was training." he added, wiping his mouth. "And it mostly has you three there. What do our women see in him?"

"They see in Alaric what others fail to achieve." Ja'anya answered resolutely.

The hunter turned to her.

"Aside from beating our hunters, what else has he achieved? The hunter questioned condescendingly.

Ja'anya wasn't fazed by the hunters tone towards her.

"He had slain Sil'cais the Scourged when the bastard tried to have his way with me." Ja'anya added, with a hint of pride.

The hunter scoffed.

"When he saved you against Sil'cais that was a fluke." he declared. "He got lucky."

Ja'anya was insulted by that comment. Considering that her life was hanging by a thread that day.

She rose to her feet suddenly, sending the cushion she was sitting on a few inches away.

"Lucky?" she said, her tone rising. "Alaric didn't get lucky. He killed that bad blood in a straight up fight. I. Saw. It. Happen!"

The hunter stood up and he easily over towered her. At this point, bystanders were starting to turn their heads towards the commotion.

Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn were now getting concerned at this point. They would have to step in if things got out of hand.

"Where's the proof?" he demanded. "What proof do you have aside from a severed head?"

"Holographic recording recovered from my ship." Ja'anya answered back. "I'm surprised if you haven't bothered to see it."

"Those could have been fabricated. I want hard evidence." he declared, hostility rising in his voice.

He noticed a flicker of light coming from Ja'anya's chest. Ja'anya's shield-hawk pendant had caught the light.

"And what is that?" he said, pointing at her chest.

Ja'anya clasped her pendant defensively.

"That wasn't by any craftsman on Lai'kairis." he pointed out.

He reached over and grabbed the chain around her neck before giving it a solid yank. The chain snapped with a loud tear of metal and the shield hawk was torn from Ja'anya's grip. She hissed through her teeth when the chain slid over her neck.

"A Bird?" the hunter said in disbelief.

"Give me my pendant back." Ja'anya demanded angrily

She reached to get her pendant back but the hunter, taking advantage of Ja'anya's impeded height, kept it high above her reach.

"That's enough." Quel'lyr demanded, getting to her feet.

Fyr'lyn followed suit in support.

"Why would one of us wear ooman made cr..." the hunter started before being physically interrupted.

Ja'anya gave the hunter a fierce swipe across the face with a loud smack that got the attention of those who hadn't already turned their heads. The hunter was momentarily taken aback from the sudden reaction he got from the small huntress. And he quickly pieced her reaction together as thin rivulets of blood seeped from his cheek from Ja'anya's talons.

And he did it in the most blunt way possible.

"You impudent little Prey-whore!" he roared.

That insult was all it took.

Ja'anya, at that point, has had enough. Remembering a maneuver Alaric taught her, she quickly and roughly grabbed the Yautja's head and at the same time hooked a leg around his. With a sharp shove and a yank, she pulled the hunter's legs out from under him, catching him completely by surprise, and slammed his head into the table with a loud thud and crack of broken crockery as he landed face first into her bowl. Her stew aptly served its purpose of scalding the hunter's face.

Before the hunter could recover, Ja'anya was already locking his arms behind his back, using her bodyweight to pin him to the table. Quel'lyr and Fyr'lyn along with nearby patrons were taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"You ARE infatuated with that ooman!" the hunter realized.

Ja'anya swiftly grabbed his neck, her talons digging into his flesh as she throttled him. She lowered her head down to his level, growling loudly.

"Get this into your thick head." She snarled, right in his ear. "Alaric is more than you or any other male could ever be!"

She then grabbed his tankard and, with an almighty swing that spoke different to her smaller size, smashed it dead centre in the hunter's face. The sound of breaking ceramic, along with cracking bones, filled the hall again, followed by Ja'anya shoving the dazed, food stained, booze smelling and bleeding hunter to the floor.

Ja'anya recovered her shield-hawk pendant from his now loosened grasp and then promptly made her way out of the hall. She avoided looking at anyone, intent on leaving before anything else happened.

She had already made a scene from her reaction and she had no intention of sticking around to see the consequences.

Her friends watched as she reached the archway to the hall.

"She definitely takes after her mother in that respect." Quel'lyr said, before looking at the hunter who was groggily shifting to his knees.

Fyr'lyn knelt down to the hunter and she had a rather smug look on her face.

"Feeling humiliated?" She innocently asked, provoking a laugh from her friend.

Ja'anya, having left the halls archway and rapidly walked to the botanical gardens, avoiding contact with anyone she passed. Entering the gardens, she walked to a secluded area, behind her favorite tree to be exact and it was at that point she held her face in her hands. She sighed loudly in exasperation as she slumped against the tree and slid down, landing on her rear with a notable thud.

"Why?" she said to herself. "Why is there always something making it worse?!"

She lowered her hands on her lap, her eyes were starting to water from the stress of it all, and breathed slowly to regain her thoughts. She went over what was happening in her head.

It was probably no secret to Lai'kairis now that she had feelings for Alaric from the way she reacted. And, even more so, she and her family would likely be targeted directly now. But, she doubted that anyone would be foolish enough to target her mother. And no one would think of confronting Elder Kal'deris. And with him not having any knowledge of her and Alaric would likely escalate things.

So that just left her.

But she was confidant in the fact that her mother supported her choice.

Ja'anya looked down at her shield-hawk pendant to assess the damage. The chain had been torn from its connections, leaving ragged tears of silver. The hawk's once lustrous shine had been smudged from the hunter's grip, dulling its former glory.

She started to polish it with the edge of her skirt, trying to restore it to its original condition. It wasn't much help as she found it was not making much of a difference.

She sighed as she lowered her hands and looked up to the stars through the transparent hull high above the gardens. And sure enough, she could see in the distance across the void, the moon of the planet that Lai'kairis orbited in its crescent phase.

She breathed deeply.

"Father." she prayed. "If you can hear me, please bring Alaric and Kra'vyx's back safely."

The moon at that point flickered. Whether or not her prayer was heard or the moon caught more of the sun's light, she did not know or care. But it did make her feel more comforted.

Ja'anya hefted herself up and dusted herself before she looked to her pendant. She tied it to her belt, looping the chain around and knotting it securely. She let go and it dangled on her hip.

"Come on, Ja'anya." she assured herself. "Let's go."

She wiped her eyes, steeled herself and she walked away from the tree.

Ja'anya was going to find something that would help get these thoughts out of her head.

Kal'deris had something to find too. A hunch to be exact. He had in fact, with no one even suspecting, ordered a sample of Alaric's blood retrieved from the arena during his initiation duel. Not difficult since Alaric bled a notable amount that day. Ever since Alaric had very nearly killed Vyl'kar in his Rage, Kal'deris had been determined to find out exactly how Alaric had such power within him. And he had a gut feeling that it must be genetic.

Kal'deris had always been suspicious about Alaric and his amazing, if terrifying, abilities since Ja'anya brought him to Lai'kairis. He had hunted humans from most cultures during his hunting years and he had heard tales from veteran hunters when he was a child but none of them could relate to what Alaric could do. The closest comparison he could think of were the Viking berserkers from the dark ages of Europe. He heard tales about Vikings from old hunters when he was a pup, how they would froth at the mouths, gnaw their weapons, and make bestial noises before charging into battle, pain doing nothing to stop their bloody rampages. But those berserkers would simply work themselves into a frenzy, possibly from ingesting psychoactive drugs and more likely large quantities of potent alcohol before the battle.

And, more so than any other, he was wary of Ja'anya's affection towards the Slayer.

Most of the day and the night before, he had been bombarded with questions and demands from the families of the missing initiates. The high priestess in particular was praying fervently to the gods for the safe return of the initiates, her granddaughter Ly'enta especially. Kal'deris had explained, or more truthfully repeated many times that this would take time, withholding the fact that the shuttle had simply disappeared from them.

After being hounded for information for the tenth time that day, Kal'deris entered the Medical Caste's hospital as the guards on duty shielded him from the interrogations, the majestic but simple doors sliding open at his approach.

"I don't know how the other Elders can cope with this position." he questioned himself as the doors shut behind him. "Hy'dorlys, that arrogant fool, is bathing in relief now that Alaric's gone."

Kal'deris as it turned out inherited the title of Elder from his grandfather, his sole family, and mentor. In that respect, you could count that some titles in Yautja culture, depending on the clan, were hereditary. Kal'deris was initiated to the title suddenly when his grandfather literally died laughing while watching a human comedy that was presented to him. While Kal'deris couldn't remember the name, due to it being destroyed after the incident, he did remember it was from the twentieth century and involved an absurd duel involving black pudding and a Scotsman.

He walked past the wards occupied by healers and patients, curtly greeting those who greeted him. He saw that Vyl'kar arms had fully recovered and was undergoing physical therapy to rebuild his muscles. After a short greeting, even surprised with a bit of compassion towards Alaric from the recovering warrior, Kal'deris made his way to the central complex of the hospital and entered the elevator.

He made sure that none of the other Elders, except one, had any notice about this 'unofficial' investigation. If they did then he wouldn't be able to find the answer's he needed with their interference getting in the way. And he was likely putting his own rank on the line.

Nothing of great significance, no matter how mundane it might be, was to happen without the council's consent.

After a minute or two of standing and waiting while listening to a calming tune over the speakers, the doors finally slid open and Kal'deris stepped out into the research wing of the hospital.

He entered the password he was issued with at the doors and the doors slid open with a slight hiss. He walked into a small chamber and the doors slid closed behind him. A heavy mist swirled around him in a torrent, disinfecting him to prevent contamination. He coughed as some of the mist entered his mouth accidentally, trying to remove the stinging antiseptic tang from his tongue. After a few moments, the mist was sucked through vents and the doors slid open, allowing Kal'deris to step through into the research wing.

Kal'deris looked around all the delicate instruments and equipment, looking for his contact. This place would normally be full of the many healers and doctors of the clan who would search for new cures and perfect techniques to save lives but for now it was unmanned. Kal'deris had made it so on the basis of an inspection. He had arranged that only one other person would be here.

He soon found who he was looking for.

"Have you finished the tests, Sy'arwyn?" he called out, walking towards his contact.

The head of the medical caste, an intelligent-looking and attractive female elder whose long flowing dreadlocks were banded into one long ponytail and with snow white skin and light grey spots, not unlike those belonging to a snow leopard, was engrossed with a microscope.

Such a pattern as hers was rare among the Yautja. An old saying was that those born with white skin were destined to be of great significance. Other clans saw it as a freak of nature that must be removed from the gene pool. A more common explanation was due to a rare pigment mutation developed from Yautja who originated from snowy climates to blend into their surroundings.

At any rate, Sy'arwen never cared about such things as she says variety helps to prevent genetic stagnation.

Sy'arwen was constantly swapping two data slides in and out of the microscope, seemingly comparing the two. It looked like she hadn't noticed that her name was being called. Kal'deris walked up to her and gave her a light tap on the shoulder with a talon.

"Greetings, Elder Kal'deris." she said, not taking her eyes off the scope. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"

Kal'deris straightened his crimson cloak and he leaned nonchalantly on the bench. Sy'arwen immediately ushered him off the bench, much to his annoyance.

"I just popped over to see if the tests on that blood I sent you came through." he explained, shifting his feet and leaning closer to her shoulder. "From the way you are looking in that microscope, you found something interesting about it, I hope?" he asked.

Sy'arwen took her eyes off the scope and turned to him. Her eyes were a vibrant reflecting shade of aqua blue, that eliminated any indication of albinism, and there was a mixture of uncertainty and confusion in her eyes. She seemed somewhat puzzled, and possibly disturbed, from what she was examining.

"I have." she answered. "But there are a few things that... puzzle me."

Kal'deris straightened up at her response.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Sy'arwen swiveled her chair around to face him, her flowing white and crimson lined robes twisting in the air that showed off much of her healthy, toned and, to many a male, appealing jewelry ornamented physique. It wouldn't be a good image if the medical caste were comprised of the unfit. And she had caught the eyes of many a hunter in the past. Around her neck was a glyph pendant that represented a tree, the symbol of the Mother Goddess of creation and life.

The Mother Goddess and her divine mate, The All Father of nature, were the two principal gods of the Yautja pantheon. Under them was Paya, the warrior god. Garauck, god of fire and smithing. Myr'sari, goddess of air and dreams. Kor'dyn, god of earth and animals. Ae'nyrie, goddess of water and time. And last but certainly not least, Cetanu the black warrior, god of death and harvester of souls.

"Well, I'm highly qualified when it comes to ooman physiology. Goes with hunting them, obviously." She started, shifting in her seat. "But from what I make of these results, Alaric is far superior to any ooman."

Kal'deris sighed, as she stated the blatantly obvious.

"I think his clan rites proved that." Kal'deris stated. "He'd basically beaten Vyl'kar to a pulp."

"Yes, but take a look at these." Sy'arwen pointed out. "I didn't mean superior in the normal sense."

She slid off the chair, her robes swaying behind her and Kal'deris sat down before swiveling into place. He then put his head down and looked down the microscope.

"What am I looking at?" he asked. "Looks like ooman blood cells. Perfectly mundane. And why are these puzzling to you?"

Sy'arwen removed the slide, which contained a small volume of red blood as he looked up. She showed it to Kal'deris.

"This is a blood sample from an average run-of-the-mill ooman, as the ooman saying goes, aptly acquired during my last research hunt." She explained, before switching data slides and showing Kal'deris the second one, also containing human blood. "And this is some of the blood from Alaric that you sent me."

She slid it into the microscope's slot and gestured to Kal'deris to look into the scope again. He did, later lifting his head after a few seconds before rubbing his eyes and looking again.

"Notice anything different?" Sy'arwen asked.

Kal'deris could see the definite difference in Alaric's blood. Whereas the base sample was normal, Alaric's was showing a far more heavy concentration of cells of all kinds but they weren't all normal sized. They appeared to be slightly smaller but not by much, like the cells were going for more efficiency through numbers and were much more active than the base sample.

Alaric's blood was far more concentrated.

"What is this?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

"I asked myself the same question and I still have no clue." Sy'arwen explained. "From what I could tell, his blood is far more potent than any I've ever seen. It can carry more oxygen and nutrients to his cells and remove waste far more effectively. It could possibly explain why he never tires too easily."

Kal'deris looked up at her.

"You sure these are correct? No contamination between samples?" he asked. "I know that some oomans who live at high altitudes have more concentrated blood to deal with the lower air quality." he thought for a second, trying to remember. "What's the name... Ghur'kahs I think they're called. From a region called... Nepal".

Sy'arwen shook her head.

"I was able to separately repeat these tests four times with the blood sample you sent me and they all tell the same thing." Sy'arwen clarified. "Besides, Alaric has no ancestry relating to them. I checked."

She then tapped a button on the bench top and a holographic display projected in front of them. It showed a projection of both samples' DNA structure and Alaric's was strikingly different then a base line sample.

His DNA had more refined, or evolved features then the baseline sample. And some sequences didn't look normal for a human.

"Well...that's strange." Kal'deris said, prompting him to scratch his head in thought.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years." Sy'arwen said, walking up to the projector. "There are indeed Spartan genes within him on his ancestor's maternal side, that much is known." she explained, pointing a finger at the relevant strands. "But there are elements of his genetic structure on his ancestor's paternal side that I have never seen before."

"What?" Kal'deris questioned with puzzlement "Every clan knows that Lai'kairis' Medical Caste has a complete, or as close to complete, genealogical library on every major race in this galaxy, living or extinct."

"But these have never been encountered before. There is no documentation on these genes, _anywhere_." Sy'arwen stated, emphasizing the last word strongly. "I checked thoroughly, Kal'deris. _Thoroughly_."

Sy'arwen then punched some more keys and a biological readout simulation of Alaric was shown, detailing his inner workings as based on his DNA. She then pointed at the varying bodily systems. She started with his muscular system.

"His muscular system is capable of greater strength, even surpassing that of the Yautja, given the right conditions." she described before indicating Alaric's nervous system "His reflexes and motor control responses are faster then any ooman. And his mind is like a well of knowledge, absorbing everything he learns and even with perfect memory recall. Might even be like the genetic memory of the Khainde Amedha."

This was starting to delve into the realm of fantasy. Or if you could call it in this era, science fiction.

"And that's not all." Sy'arwen added. "Some of these genes appear to be, well, dormant."

"Dormant?" Kal'deris questioned. "What do you mean 'dormant'?

"These are inactive for some reason. Biologically, this shouldn't even be possible." Sy'arwen explained. "I mean, your genes are fully active by the time you reach adulthood. But these look like they're waiting some sort of... trigger, I guess.

Kal'deris immediately thought of whenever Alaric went into a Rage scenario. Could that be these genes becoming active?

"Look at this." Sy'arwen said, pointing at the holo-projecter. "His immune system is something to behold."

She tapped some more buttons and the projection switched to a recorded timing of Alaric's blood cells. Both red and white cells just floated around peacefully until a bunch of viral particles came sweeping into view. Instantly, the white cells swarmed and engulfed the viral cells before they even had a chance to have their way.

"By the gods, that is fast!" Kal'deris exclaimed.

"I subjected it to the deadly viral strain of influenza that ravaged Lai'kairis and that Kra..." she stopped, almost mentioning Kal'deris' deceased friend and her greatest pupil. "Needless to say, his white cells eradicated the virus before it could even spread." Sy'arwen concluded sharply. "His cells even regenerate at an alarming rate."

"Sy'arwen, it's all right." Kal'deris assured her. "It's been many cycles since then."

Kal'deris knew that his old friend had been sent on that mission by Sy'arwen to find the cure for the plague. The same mission that cost him his life, which she so desperately tried to save. Sy'arwen had since felt a profoundly personal amount of guilt for sending him but he was the only one with the knowledge, expertise, and daring to find that particular sap. Zel'tyr, in her grief, wouldn't be in the same room with her for months.

Sy'arwen took a breath and sighed.

"Have a look at these." she resumed.

Sy'arwen showed recordings of Alaric's duel with Vyl'kar, when Alaric was in Rage, and his blood cells during a trauma test. In both films, with the view focused on Alaric's injuries, Alaric was healing his wounds at a fast rate and the cells in a CGI simulation were reforming at an unprecedented rate. In seconds, the wounds had sealed over and the cells looked like they never had any damage at all.

"See, no scarring whatsoever." she continued. "Unless the wound is too grievous of course."

"Disturbing" Kal'deris said in astonishment.

"Now, don't get me wrong." Sy'arwen pointed out. "A mortal enough wound, in the right place, would be lethal and, if a disease is virulent enough, he may get ill, but it would be a _much_ greater risk to us then it is to him."

Kal'deris tried to put all this information into a logical explanation. Alaric was able to regenerate his cells at an unprecedented rate?

"You think this might be natural selection at work?" he asked. "Alaric often said his line were all warriors. So it is logical to assume that constant exposure to hostile conditions would have an effect on his bloodline."

Sy'arwen cupped her chin in thought. She had taken that possibility into account.

"It's possible but it takes thousands of years to get to such a level." Sy'arwen postulated. "Most species that possess such traits have millions of years behind them."

She then revealed a datapad that she had requisitioned from the archives and tapped a button with her thumb. A projection, detailing a timeline of human history appeared. It panned from the time of the ancient Greeks to the present day, from before the Mycenaean era, through the undocumented dark ages before the Archaic period, through to the Hellenic period to the end of the ancient world, over three thousand years ago.

"Spanning from ancient ooman times, Alaric's ancestors, and spanning to the present day, I just don't see traits like these possible in that short time." Sy'arwen stated. "It would have to take tens of millennia, and thousands of successive generations, not to mention a use of selective breeding and eugenics, which Spartans have been known for, to even theoretically get to that level."

She placed the datapad down and then shrugged in defeat.

"This is just... beyond me." Sy'arwen admitted in defeat. "That's all I have to say."

"You're the head medical authority of Lai'kairis, and you have no idea?" Kal'deris asked.

Sy'arwen pointed to the large pile of medical texts and datapads, measuring a meter in height and stacked somewhat haphazardly, on the desk in her office. Most of them were half opened and some looked like they had been thumbed through repeatedly.

Kal'deris even saw a large holographic display on the wall and in it an image of Alaric, taken from when he walked into the arena in full war paint, in the centre. All manner of notes, theories, and texts were arrayed around, trying to make sense of Alaric.

"I have been through every medical tome and journal that I could think of regarding oomans and their biology, even every crackpot theory from half-mad doctors and I have nothing that explains this." she said. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a new step into the field of evolutionary genetics."

She retrieved the data slide with Alaric's blood from the microscope and held it in her fingers.

"I would be able to make out more if I had a larger sample but even this small amount of his blood is disturbing to say the least." She added, before placing it down on the bench-top

Kal'deris walked up to the image of Alaric on the wall. He looked at all the notes that were arranged around the image.

Alaric is proving to be more of a mystery then I first realized, he thought.

He turned back to Sy'arwen.

"Well, can you conclude anything?" he asked, relating to the original question he wanted answered.

Sy'arwen simply sat back on the stool and shrugged.

"Whatever Alaric is, he isn't exactly ooman." Sy'arwen concluded.

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><p>Editor's note:<p>

Kari'kalei'lou- (The festival of Fertility) is is the brainchild of Madam-Sparkz on Deviantart . Be sure to check out her page as she is a very talented artist and... She has done a scene from Slayer's Vengeance of Alaric and Ja'anya before Alaric set out on his initiation hunt. Check it out.


	23. Chapter 22

hey all!

The next chapter entails Alaric having nowhere else to turn and he, led by the hawk, would find something that would test his sense of identity of himself and what he believed to the limit.

this chapter was draining on me, spending so much time on it, trying to get it right to the last detail. I hope I nailed it.

Just so you all know I'll be taking a pseudo-break from this story in April, I'm going to the USA on holiday. But, ever the person who's always thinking of things, I will be writing whenever possible and hopefully, and if you lot are good, I may have a chapter ready for when I return.

As always, read and review and don't forgot to spread the story around.

* * *

><p>Chapter 22- Sanctuary.<p>

"Shit, shit, shit!" Alaric cursed as he ran as fast as he could, boots crunching underfoot and trying not to trip over hive webbing and ice slicks, from something that used to be human.

The hawk, flying out ahead of him, suddenly veered sharply around a corner and Alaric was determined not to lose sight of it. He vaulted sharply around the corner, free running across the opposite wall a few crunching paces as his momentum carried him off. It wasn't long before the xenomorph in question did the same, tearing shreds from the stone wall.

Alaric's luck had run out. He had discovered that one of the xenomorphs had been tracking him and was now trying to lose it as it chased after him. It appeared that what miner said about 'knowing through each other was true and Alaric had unknowingly walked right into the claws of the ambusher laying in wait.

But on the bright side, if you could call it that, at least all the running would keep Alaric warm.

Alaric found that outrunning this miner-turned-ancient xenomorph in its hive was pushing him far beyond his boundaries. He was running in unknown territory where he had no idea of where to go or what might be behind the next corner. The xenomorph on the other hand would know every inch of its hive.

Alaric's only guide was the hawk as it now flew above him, shining like a beacon to lead Alaric to safety.

"Do you even know which way you're going!?" Alaric shouted up, sliding under a massive tendril.

The hawk merely gave a loud call in reply as Alaric sprinted to his feet just in time to see it dive sharply down and out of sight ahead

"Oh, of course." Alaric muttered as he vaulted over another tendril. "You've probably been stuck in this temple for years."

That was when he noticed that the passageway had suddenly dropped steeply when he expected to land on his feet. More accurately, he ended up half skidding, half rolling head-over-heels down the drop before he knew it. Cursing loudly, he managed to roll onto his feet and stay on them. He saw that the slope was actually tendril encroached stairs that led ever deeper into the temple.

"This I do not need!" Alaric cursed, spitting out a mouthful of webbing as he left a trail of crushed webbing behind him.

Alaric slid down the tendril encroached stairs, keeping his balance with his arms out. Looking behind him he could see that the xenomorph was somewhat imitating his actions. Perhaps in some way to intimidate him.

Alaric, thinking ahead, veered over to the right side of the staircase, until he was nearly scraping on the tunnel wall. And the xenomorph followed suit. Alaric shifted around so that he was facing is pursuer and he gestured with his hand, daring it to come closer.

That's it, Alaric thought as the xenomorph swiftly approached. A little closer.

The xenomorph had now come dangerously close to striking distance. And Alaric saw it rearing to bring him into its razor filled maw.

"Bon appetite'!" Alaric yelled, giving the xenomorph the Finger.

Alaric hurled himself off the ramp at the last moment, with as much force as he could muster as the xenomorphs jaws snapped behind him with a loud chitinous crack. He vaulted over the balustrade that had suddenly appeared with a fluid flip while the xenomorph crashed face first into the stone. The balustrade, weakened from the hive webbing, fractured into large chunks of rock with a loud rumbling crack.

That'll buy me a few seconds, he thought as he trailed though the air.

Alaric landed his feet after he landed as the xenomorph skidded to a halt, no doubt stunned by the impact. He didn't waste time running before the xenomorph recovered from the impact.

He had managed to get a good distance away before he skidded to a halt.

"Oh... bugger." Alaric panted, looking around.

He took in his surroundings, completely at a loss since he could not find the hawk waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.

"Shit!" Alaric cursed, looking frantically around. "Where are you?!"

Alaric found himself in a large hall that only had one other tunnel leading out, straight ahead. Alaric didn't have time to mentally map this chamber or figure what it's purpose was. He ran for the tunnel, which was roughly ten feet wide and about twenty feet high. However, the hawk was no where to be found to confirm if this was the way.

Alaric's footsteps were now making a much more solid thumping sound instead of the usual crunch of hive webbing. That meant he was running more on solid stone floor now.

Alaric had a faint hope that he had finally found an exit out of the hive but then that came to a rather literal, abrupt, and jarring halt. And by that, He had run into a solid wall, slamming hard into the stone and slumping down in a heap. Alaric cradled his head, throbbing as the impact caused a migraine to erupt behind his skull plate.

"Fucking typical." he cursed, rubbing his head and picking himself up. "I run straight into a dead end."

Alaric looked around frantically as he searched for another way out. There was no other tunnel leading away from his position. And he couldn't see the hawk anywhere.

"You bastard!" He cursed the hawk, wherever it was. "You led me into a trap!"

That was when he heard the screeching roar.

Alaric turned and he saw the xenomorph, face scuffed and scratched from its previous battering, halt several meters away from him. It was likely gauging on Alaric's chances if he should fight in this confined area. Alaric had already assessed his position and he was as a severe disadvantage. Considering the xenomorph's size and the size of the tunnel, Alaric had little room to maneuver.

One wrong move and he would be sliced to ribbons before he could react.

Alaric drew one of his hand axes and hefted it. He would have to fight his way out of this one whether he wanted to or not.

"If there's any human left of you in there, you have one chance to get out of my way." he demanded, half heartedly hoping that some remnant of humanity resided behind the xenomorphs eyeless visage.

A loud roaring screech was the reply he got as the xenomorph riled itself, sending up clouds of snow. Alaric flourished his axe and took deep controlling breaths, preparing himself for the fight.

"Well, come on!" Alaric goaded, getting into a readied position with his back and free hand to the wall to the stone wall. "Come and get me then!"

The xenomorph responded to his challenge and charged at him at speed, likely intending to crush him against the stone. But as it approached, something strange happened.

A blue glow filled the tunnel, coming from the stone wall behind Alaric. it illuminated the whole tunnel on the first light that this temple must have felt in eons.

Then, in a completely uncharacteristic move, the xenomorph skidded to a halt just one foot away from Alaric. Alaric was about to drive his axe in but the sudden stop caught his attention. He looked up at the xenomorph, wondering why it stopped. Its attention was concentrated on the wall that Alaric had his back to. It seemed to reacting what seemed to be anxiety or even fear. It made what sounded like stammering screeches as it backed away quickly.

Alaric watched with complete puzzlement as he saw the xenomorph suddenly turn tail and run with a frightened screech. Alaric holstered his axe as he watched the xenomorph latch to the walls and scampered up into the darkness.

What could scare an ungodly bug?

"What just happened?" he asked himself, before uncertainty took his mind. "What the hell did I press?"

He looked up behind and saw an imposing sight as he stepped a pace or two back for a better look.

"By my ancestors." he whispered.

It was a towering glowing effigy of the Yautja god of death, Cetanu, himself. But, not in the normally demonic manner that he was associated with but in a more honored and venerated state. The deity was clad in ancient armor of godlike, almost angelic artifice and robes like the void of space, giving the visage of an angelic warrior priest. Streams of light poured from his back like angel's wings in four pairs arranged like a star. In his left hand was a levitating orb, pulsing with energy with a mist swirling around it. In his right hand was the scythe that he had been seeing in those visions.

"This is supposed to be the god of death?" he questioned to himself. "He doesn't look horrifying here as everyone on Lai'kairis makes him to be."

In fact, as Alaric himself had seen at the temple for his initiation, Cetanu was often shown under his void black robes as encased in the bones of the dead and having multiple maws that were used to devour the souls of the living. Something to inspire terror in any who see him.

This effigy however, was of a more revered, dignified and noble figure.

This clan really takes their god seriously, Alaric thought.

Alaric then noticed a glowing imprint that was level with his head. A hand print surround by a ring of runes. He looked at it closer, reading the runes around the hand print.

Built from our Bloodline. Opened by our Bloodline. Sealed by our Bloodline.

This filled Alaric with a small flicker of hope. Maybe this was the main entrance to the prison. He could finally get out.

Thinking back to the visions he had been seeing, if his Spartan ancestors were indeed made a part of the clan than, hopefully, they would've been able to open doors that were built into the temple.

Alaric looked back and he heard more screeching echoing throughout the hive. He knew that every single xenomorph was converging on his position. He didn't have much time. Alaric knew that there was only one way to go now.

He would have to try to open the way.

Please let this be the way out, he prayed as he pressed his hand to the imprint.

The glowing runes and effigy surged with power as his hand made contact, brightening the tunnel, and flickering with waves of energy that coursed through the stone like a flowing river. Alaric withdrew his hand, seeing tendrils of light encircle his hand in graceful arcs and feeling comfortably warm before fading away. The wall then started to split down the middle as a stream of energy slid down the wall before the two half rumbled apart, so seamlessly that no such split was visible to the naked eye. And the two halves of the wall slid apart with a loud grinding of stone.

Alaric didn't waste any time as he squeezed through the gap as soon as it was big enough. The doors themselves as Alaric found out were over a meter thick and clear lines of power were coursing through almost like an organic circuit board.

He saw that he arrived in a large room, thirty meters square and illuminated by a beam of light that shone from above, one that didn't have colossal amounts of snow or hive webbing occupying everything. This was without doubt the most ornate room by far, judging from the incredibly exquisite craftsmanship.

Alaric wondered if the whole temple was this ornate under the webbing, but his wonder soon turned to frustration as he saw that there was no other exit from this chamber.

"Oh, give me a fucking break!" he cursed as the gateway stopped with a loud rumble

He turned around and saw the swarm of xenomorphs turn into the corridor and headed towards him. Seeing no alternative, either getting swarmed by rampaging xenomorphs or getting trapped behind solid stone, he chose the latter and rushed back to the doors desperately trying to pull them close.

"Shut!" he shouted in frustration. "Shut you blasted thing! Shut!"

The gate surged with blue energy and began to close at the same grindingly slow pace. Alaric rushed to the left hand panel and aimed Razeal down the corridor. He had to slow the xenomorphs down so that the doors could seal themselves.

Right, he thought as he cocked his sidearm. Nine rounds, nine hits.

He fired Razeal down the tunnel, taking extreme care with his limited ammunition. While he couldn't outright kill one of these ungodly bugs with his sidearm, he could at least try and pop a few kneecaps.

Alaric managed to get a few clean hits, causing the xenomorphs hit to stagger and disrupt the rest of the swarm but only for a few moments until they once more joined the flood of impending death.

And that wasn't the only thing that Alaric was concerned about.

"Where's that bloody bird?!" he demanded.

A shrill avian cry echoed down the tunnel and the gleaming hawk appeared, soaring down the tunnel like shooting star. Alaric watched as the hawk steered itself towards the lead xenomorph and it was glowing more intensely then before. Suddenly, in a flashing blur, the hawk rocketed at incredible speed at the beast. The hawk impacted the xenomorph from behind with a enough force to punch right through it in a brilliant flash of white light like a shooting star. The xenomorph, much to Alaric's surprise, seemed to fall apart as flame like energy consumed it. The xenomorph disintegrated to bits as it hit the ground, it's flesh and carapace sizzling.

The show was enough to make the horde pause for a moment in what was perceived to be fear. But it didn't take long for their Hive Mind to bring them in line and they once again resumed their charge.

"About time!" Alaric praised as he fired once again as the hawk flew past him. "Nice take-down."

Razeal's slide jerked open as the last spent casing pinged out as the hawk flew into the chamber. Alaric cursed as he tossed his pistol to his side and patted around his belt. Alaric grasped for the loaded flare gun and aimed it just as the lead bug lunged at him.

"Say 'Ahh', motherfucker!" Alaric roared as he squeezed the trigger.

In a bright flash, Alaric fired the flare right into the xenomorphs maw and it lodged itself right in the roof of the bug's mouth before exploding in a red flash. Red flames engulfed the xenomorph's head as it crashed to the ground and thrashed around, knocking some of it's brood kin out of the charge.

"Ha!" Alaric laughed before his smile left his face. "Oh, shit!"

Alaric dived to the side just in time as a xenomorph, the same one that had been chasing him earlier, lunged, and attempted to bite him with a loud snap of razor sharp teeth. He rolled; reaching for an axe before seeing that his enemy had run into a slight problem. Or rather had gotten trapped by a big problem.

Alaric saw the xenomorph's head had gotten caught between the doors, futilely trying to get free and there was a loud symphony of cracks forming in its already battered head. The stone doors were undeterred by the sudden obstruction as they slowly ground their way together. Shards of chitin started to chip off and rivulets of acid blood streamed out the cracks.

Alaric walked up next to xenomorph as a loud crack was heard and fractured its head lengthways. It was about to cave in on itself. Alaric smugly leaned over like he was in a comedy program.

"I heard about using your head, but this is ridiculous." Alaric remarked.

The xenomorph's head collapsed like an overripe zit, chitin shards flew and acid blood spurted in all directions as Alaric nimbly dodged the corrosive streams and the doors sealed with a loud thud and grind of stone. The acid blood fizzed and bubbled on the stone, giving off acrid smoke but the stone showed no intention of being dissolved.

Alaric breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could rest without fear of being ambushed. He slumped against the door, slid down to the floor, and sat there. He shivered as his body used up the last of the adrenaline in his blood, his bands jingling in his hair.

"This is just getting too much, even for me." he muttered, wiping the cold sweat off his face.

Outside, he could hear the roaring of the xenomorphs. He can hear the dull scratching of claws against stone as they tried to tear their way through. Alaric shifted away from the door out of caution, picking up Razeal as he moved. But the stone was unyielding against the onslaught.

"Well, at least I finally found a sanctuary in this hive." he praised before sighing. "Even if it is right in the middle of hell."

Alaric assessed his situation as he looked at his empty pistol and the empty flare gun.

"Right." he evaluated, tossing the flare gun. "I'm stuck in a middle of the hive full of prehistoric, host-transforming bugs. I've got no ammo or supplies. I'm freezing my ass off and I'm trapped in a tomb with the whole fucking brood outside these doors." he shut the slide on Razeal before holstering it. "Well, adapt or die." he sighed.

Alaric decided to see what this sanctuary had to offer for his survival. He looked around to get a feel of the chambers layout, now that he had time to. This had to be the only place pure of the hive as there was little to no snow or webbing, so this would make scavenging much easier. But, on first glance this crypt was looking a bit bare.

There weren't any ornate murals, elaborate stonework decorations on the walls, and no statues that he could see. It gave him the impression that this chamber had not been finished for some reason.

Maybe the temple wasn't finished before the xenomorphs were hemmed in? Maybe there as a sudden change of plan?

The room also had eight large geometrical pillars that were arranged in a geographical fashion, one in each direction like a compass. Much like the frozen waterfalls in the cavern in which the temple is located.

Alaric was thrown from his thoughts when he suddenly slipped on an ice slick and he fell onto his side with a loud crash that made most of his ruined armor rattle and crack. Groaning in frustration, he sat up, rubbing his arm after he had landed on it.

"Oh, come on!" he cursed. "I've had enough of ice!"

He looked down to the slick and his frustration faded quickly when he saw that the slick in question was dark red.

The slick was in fact blood.

Human blood.

Alaric shifted himself off the slick and looked at it more closely, his experience of battlefield forensics coming back to him. It looked as if someone was hemorrhaging badly, maybe from a severe wound to a vital artery and, when Alaric looked further up, was moving further down the chamber as indicated by the streaking drops.

Alaric picked himself up and followed the trail. He noticed that the trail was getting irregular and, judging from the stains, the bleeder in question was being supported by another person it would seem. Alaric paused when he noticed a change in color with some of the blood slicks.

A once fluorescent green.

The other person must have been one of those Yautja from the visions.

Alaric was starting to get uncertain with what he was tracking. But, he continued on.

As he got closer, Alaric at that point noticed something, hidden from view by the central right pillar. It was an armored hand, dimly shining in the dim light. And the trail of frozen blood was leading to it. Alaric hurried forward.

Coming around for a better look, Alaric was in for a surprise. It was a frozen Spartan corpse in chipped battle damaged armor that lay against the south west pillar in a manner that was like sleeping, his aspis shield, looking almost completely undamaged by comparison, resting against him. Alaric walked closer and saw a large ragged bloody hole, run completely through, in the body's side where his liver would be located. This gave him the impression that something had enough force to penetrate the armor. Maybe from a xenomorph tail but something about this wound, a feeling deep in Alaric's gut, just didn't seem right. A large pool of his frozen blood was pooled around him. With a smattering of green drips in front of him.

The Spartan's hand was encrusted predominately his own blood and a smear of the Yautja's.

Alaric couldn't help but mutter a small prayer as he knelt down by the body, head down in respect. As he raised his head, he noticed distinct ornate markings on the armor, different from the armor he had seen in those visions. It looked as if this Spartan was one of a higher rank. Maybe one who was in charge of a phalanx? A Lochagos, the ancient Greek variant of a captain.

He and one of those Yautja must have gotten separated and was attacked by one of those bugs, Alaric thought.

He looked back at the blood trail as he surmised a plausible hypothesis.

Then he was carried here and died before any medical aid could be given, he concluded. Though with these wounds it might not have made a difference if he did.

Alaric examined the body more, gently raising the shield to get a better look. Alaric was careful not to damage the millennia old remains. He raised a brow when he saw the Spartan's vice-like grip on the shields handle.

Alaric was surprised that such a grip had survived for so long.

"He died with his shield." Alaric said, seeing how tightly the Spartan had gripped it.

In Ancient Greece, the shield was considered the most important item of a warrior. It not only protects himself but protects those next to him in the phalanx, ensuring a strong defense. If a warrior lost his shield or, considering how heavy the shield was, throws it away to flee, that was considered an extremely disgraceful dishonor. Negligence for the former and putting his own survival ahead of those of his comrades for the latter.

And that led to a well known Spartan phrase: Return with your shield or upon it.

Alaric looked around the Spartan's body and grumbled in annoyance.

Where are his weapons? He thought before another popped into his head. And another point, where is that Yautja?

A distinct rapping was heard coming from the centre of the chamber. The sound of a beak against stone. Alaric turned to the source and he found something that caused him to whisper in the slayer tongue.

This room, or crypt for a more fitting term, had a large ornate stone sarcophagus in the centre on a plinth of six steps that was illuminated by a beam of light from above. Making for an almost shrine-like setting. And, much to Alaric surprise, the hawk was rapping against the stone lid in a manner that spoke of reverence or, from it's posture, mourning.

Almost like it was trying to wake up the dead occupying it.

Alaric noticed that the dark green blood trail that had joined the Spartan's was leading to the sarcophagus. And, for further confirmation, there was a large blood stain upon the stonework, giving Alaric the impression that the Yautja had fallen upon it at one point.

Alaric walked up as the hawk continued to rap with its beak.

"There you are." Alaric said, stopping at the edge of the sarcophagus. "Where have you been back there?"

The hawk didn't look up to him. It continued to look at the sarcophagus. Alaric leant on the sarcophagus, clicked his tongue, and rapped his fingers.

He was going to interrogate the hawk.

"Look, I know you can understand me." Alaric stated. "And I've got a good impression of what you're communicating. Since we are now trapped inside a crypt with the whole hive waiting outside, you are going to tell me WHY, of all places in this ice ball, did you lead me here?"

The hawk looked up at him. It gave Alaric a cocked head that told him 'We're not trapped'.

Alaric rapped his fingers again.

"It would've been better if you had led me to an armory, something that could help me, oh I don't know, get out of this place?!" his added, his frustration finally bubbling out. "I mean the only thing I've seen so far is one of my dead ancestors sitting against a pillar."

The hawk was undeterred by his rant. It merely stepped back and waved its wing over the sarcophagus. In a manner that it was showing to Alaric that this was the reason it led him here.

Alaric rapped his fingers again in thought from the hawks actions.

"So you led me to a crypt and whatever is in this place, namely this sarcophagus, is the key to my escape?" he surmised.

The hawk nodded before making a lifting gesture with its wings. Alaric rapped his fingers again as the hawk once again motioned its wing over the sarcophagus.

"You want me to open this?" Alaric asked, pointing at the sarcophagus.

The hawk nodded and Alaric gave a curt laugh.

"I've seen enough Indiana Jones to know that this is likely locked, trapped or both." Alaric said.

The hawk cocked its head at his point. It didn't understand the reference that Alaric had just made.

"Ah, you wouldn't know who Indiana Jones is." Alaric muttered as he turned to the task at hand.

Alaric was understandingly cautious about messing with this ancient Yautja tomb. There was no telling what the builders, be it Yautja or Dwarves, could have hidden in the stone.

However, the current situation dictates otherwise.

Alaric, out of caution, moved around the sarcophagus, carefully examining every square inch. He even gave a few cautionary pokes on anything that he thought looked out of place. The hawk simply watched him, like it was perplexed that Alaric was taking so many precautions.

Well, Alaric thought. I can't see anything out of the ordinary.

He stood back up, back to where he started.

"Oh, well." he said, getting a grip on the lid. "Sorry about this, whoever is in there."

He gave a sharp pull and he winced at the sharp tug on his muscles as the stone lid failed to give. Rubbing his arms, he tried again, this time more slowly. But, no matter how much muscle bulging tugs he gave, even managing to give himself a really bad cramp in his right arm, the lid would not budge.

The hawk was looking somewhat bemused from Alaric's attempts as Alaric finally gave up.

"Fuck, that's a tight seal." Alaric cursed.

Alaric massaged his biceps as he assessed the situation, muttering under his breath. The hawk rolled its eyes, almost with 'Are you kidding me?' look on its avian face. Alaric at that point suddenly had a thought.

"Wait a second." Alaric said, looking to the hawk. "I'm missing something aren't I?

The hawk merely rapped it's beak in the same spot it had been and Alaric noticed it, shifting up onto the sarcophagus for a better look as the hawk stepped to the side, making a pointing motion with it's wing. It was another hand print and rune circle, cleverly concealed. Alaric hadn't seen it before because at first, it was seen as merely part of the ornamentations on the sarcophagus.

"Clever." Alaric said. "Literally in front of me the whole time."

Alaric saw that there was green blood in the indent. That put the idea that the wounded Yautja had opened it before climbing inside.

He then read the runes.

'Should the Devouring Darkness rise once more, embrace the Light within.'

Alaric grinned.

"If that doesn't say 'Weapons Cache' I don't know what will." he said, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Alaric placed his hand onto the imprint. And he once again felt that warm feeling coursing over his skin as tendrils of light coursed over his cold flesh.

The whole sarcophagus lit up in the same fashion as the doors had. All manner of glyphs, patterns, and runes lit up, illuminating the chamber as the light shone brightly as if a sun was contained within. The hawk flapped off of the glowing stone and flew up somewhere out of sight.

Alaric stepped back in case he had set off a trap of some kind. And what happened next was just nothing short of mystical. The light within the sarcophagus surged outwards and up like a roaring fire, illuminating the whole chamber. Alaric had to hold his hands up to protect his eyes. The flames took the shining form of the scythe and Lambda glyph before the flames flared and died in a massive surge of light.

Alaric rubbed his eyes as the flash had robbed him of his night vision. It took a few moments of blinking and rubbing to regain his sight.

The stone sarcophagus lid slid apart with a surprisingly soft grind into multiple stone plates before it lowered itself to the floor on each side, swirling tendrils of light coursing around the stone before fading away. Looking into the sarcophagus, Alaric saw something that made him go wide eyed. Inside was Gri'nyr in his armored suit, his long armored dreadlocks draped over him on one side like a quilt. And, surprisingly, it was in pristine condition. Its silver colored metal was shining in the light, its robes were pristine, and the darkened crystalline runes contrasted with the metal plating. From they way it was laid out in a natural posture, he concluded that the armor was still occupied.

It would seem that Gri'nyr had died in battle and was placed here as a silent guardian for the temple. Alaric considered the possibility, accounting for the nature of these xenomorphs.

However, since he had seen the blood trail leading to the sarcophagus, he had presumed to see damage to the armor. There wasn't so much as a scratch on it.

The hawk hopped onto Gri'nyr's shoulder, bowing its head towards Gri'nyr's mask. It then looked up at Alaric, gesturing with its wing at Gri'nyr.

"Looks like he didn't make it after all." Alaric said, getting a closer look at the armor.

"You want me to rob a clan leader's body of his armor?" Alaric hesitantly asked.

The hawk nodded before it hopped off Gri'nyr and up onto the stone rim.

"Right, as much as I hate desecrating graves, needs must." he whispered to himself.

He unlatched his axe's harness and placed it on the floor, followed by his two hand axes. He then, somewhat gingerly, reached out to take the helmet. He gently lifted it up, strangely with no resistance, expecting to see the mummified remains of the Yautja who wore it. But, surprisingly, he didn't find a frozen corpse. He didn't find a body turning to dust. In fact, there was no body occupying the suit. It was almost like the armor had lain in this tomb by itself.

What the hell? He thought. There's no body?!

Even though he then searched the whole coffin very thoroughly for any dead remains, he could find nothing. Gri'nyr it seemed had vanished into thin air.

Alaric looked to the hawk.

"All right, there is something strange about this whole ordeal now." he earnestly told it. 'That Yautja's armor is in here, obviously in a funerary layout, but there is no body." He then held up the helmet and pointed to where Gri'nyr's head should be. "And, since there are Yautja blood spills on the floor, there should be a body. So, where is the body?"

The hawk simply flapped its wings and hovered before flying up and out of sight. Alaric decided not to waste time trying to get an answer.

"Fine, I'll question you later." Alaric said, waving a hand, placing the helmet on the sarcophagus' rim.

Resuming to the task at hand, he stripped himself of his damaged armor. From the look of the armor suit, and what he saw from those visions, he could see that it was going to be skin tight.

Alaric undid his ragged thermal jacket and the shreds of insulating fur inside tumbled out. Alaric slightly shivered as he dropped it on the ground. He would have to get in the armor quickly. Alaric then unlatched his ruined gauntlets and dumped them before reaching down to his boots. He deftly removed them before, somewhat reluctantly, removing his fatigues. He was sorry to see them go after all they had been through but needs must. He then went about removing all of the thermal mesh that would have been warming him in different circumstances.

Alaric shivered as he felt the ungodly cold encroach deeper into him, now wearing only his boxers. He had to get in the armor quickly.

He reached in the sarcophagus and started hauling out the armor and laying it out on the stone floor.

It appeared that the suit was made in a modular fashion with each part of the suit's structure being interconnected with each other. The upper body was composed into torso and arms, while the lower body was the boots, greaves, groin protection, and fully encircling cuisses for the thighs. And all of these had the fine robes of metallic silk, as was the closest that Alaric could describe.

He slipped the lower proportion of the suit on, with some difficulty due to it's larger size and the fact it was freezing cold upon contact with his skin. As each part was joined there was a slight hissing click and the parts were securely held together.

"God, this is baggy." Alaric muttered, as he held up the belt to keep it from falling.

He soon decided that sitting on the steps would be the best option. He pulled up the leggings and sat down to keep it in place. He then reached over and slipped the cuirass on before locking it in place. Alaric then proceeded to slipped his arms into the armored sleeves and gauntlets before locking those in.

He stood up, feeling the suit shift and clatter downwards as gravity took hold.

"Okay, last but not least: the helmet." he said, hefting said item up and putting it on over his head.

It took some adjusting, getting his hair into the armored tubes were Gri'nyr's dreadlocks used to be, before a sharp click was heard as the helmet sealed over Alaric's face and connected to the rest of the suit.

Alaric could hear his breathing echo inside the helmet and his shivering made the plating rattle. He hefted up his arms to find the control unit for the suit. But to his puzzlement, there wasn't any. There was no sign that a control unit was even designed into this suit.

Oh, he thought. That's not normal.

He then sighed, the sound echoing loudly in the helmet.

Well, he thought in apprehension. Lets see what it can do.

Alaric took a few trial steps and found the armor was far too big for him as it clunked and rattled with every motion. The under-suit constantly shifting against his skin. Alaric would be lucky be lucky to have only chaffing to worry about at this rate.

He saw that the hawk was watching him from a nestled position on a pillar ledge. It looked like it was silently amused from his attempts to fit the armor. However, it appeared to be waiting for something to happen.

"I bet you're finding this very amusing." he said, crossing his arms.

That was when he heard a sharp click coming from his neck, followed by an electrical buzz. He looked down to see arcing sparks dance around the amour.

"What did I press?" he said, dread filling his head. "What did I press?!"

Alaric suddenly felt a sharp piercing pinch erupting all over his body. The armor and the underlying layer beneath for some reason was contorting tightly and sharply around his body, like a snake crushing its prey.

Like it was rejecting or even devouring its wearer!

"Shit!" Alaric cursed.

Alaric gasped as he struggled to remove the now seriously ill-fitting armor, deciding it was a bad idea to even think he could use this ancient technology. But no matter how hard he yanked or tugged, the armor would not shift and pain erupted whenever he tried. It felt as if the armor had somehow grafted itself to his skin and was forcing its way into his flesh. He couldn't even find where the different segments even join. He soon found to his horror that he couldn't breath. His chest was being constricted as the armor tightened the vice as he clawed at the helmet, desperately trying to get it off.

Alaric looked up and he saw the hawk sitting on the pillar that the dead Spartan was propped against.

"Get this... off me!" Alaric yelled to the hawk.

The hawk, rather ominously, was simply watching his plight from its perch. It merely stretched out its shimmering wings casually as Alaric struggled.

"What...you..." Alaric choked before his lost his balance.

Alaric fell to the ground with a loud metallic thud down the steps and clattered against the stone floor as he felt his entire body go limp. His nerves were being suffocated and his body going numb. His vision was starting to blacken and he struggled to keep conscious. And he felt sure the armor was now crushing his skull.

Alaric could see, with his fading sight, the hawk was now sitting on the rim of the sarcophagus, just watching him with a cocked head. It wasn't doing anything to help him; rather it was waiting for something to happen to him.

And something did happen.

A surge of power coursed through Alaric as the amour's decoration glowed brilliantly, causing him to convulse. Alaric let out a loud yell that resonated throughout the entire chamber as he felt the sharp piercing burn flow through his body. The ornamentation of the armor flashed brilliantly to life as a lightning storm erupted around him, lashing out at the nearby stonework.

The hawk remained unmoved as its eyes glowed bright in unison.

Then as suddenly as it started, the lightning ceased, the pain stopped and Alaric found that he could breathe again. He took several deep breaths, getting precious oxygen back in his starved lungs as he calmed himself down.

The ornamentation on the armor dimmed and flickered out. Alaric was perfectly still as he quickly made his mind up.

Right, he thought. I'd rather go buck naked in the snow than wear this!

That was until he felt something. And it wasn't the freezing cold but much overdue warmth. In fact, the armor was now thoroughly keeping him at an optimal temperature for the environment.

Alaric was slightly comforted from the sudden sensation of warmth. But he wasn't going to let his guard down just yet.

Alaric gingerly picked himself up, expecting the armor to react again. However, after getting to his feet, his concern over a crushing death was averted. He conducted a quick self examination, patting himself down and saw that nothing was out of place. In fact, he saw that the undersuit had formed perfectly around the muscles and contours of his body. The plating and the robes was still disproportionate but they fitted perfectly.

He felt his head, feeling the long metal dreadlocks rattle as he brushed his fingers through them. And as he felt them, he found that they had actually molded to his hair perfectly.

He took a step forward and found that he wasn't as impaired as before. The armor plating was moving in sync with his muscles and the undersuit was not shifting against his skin but was now perfectly formed to his skin.

It was indeed like a second skin.

He let out a tense sigh of relief.

"Well, this is... good so far." Alaric said his voice now synthesized by the helmet's audio systems. "I'm still in one piece, nothing out of line. First bit of good news."

Alaric heard the hawk give out a call and he watched it fly around the chamber, darting between pillars with finesse, leaving a trail from its glowing feathers.

It was celebrating.

"All right." Alaric asked the hawk as it fluttered down to his feet. "Since I nearly died a few moments ago, what the hell did I just go through?"

"Bond established." a synthesized but oddly familiar voice said. "Wearer's profile accepted. Bloodline descendant: Direct."

Alaric paused when he heard that. The voice was coming from the suit itself via its comms.

"Body Structure: ooman" the voice said. "Adapting form."

Alaric suddenly heard the rapid shifting and click-clacking of armor plates and he felt that the suit actually changing on his body. The suit shifted and molded seamlessly, almost like the metal was organic, to his form, shifting into armor that was more of human build. Alaric looked down to his legs and his hands and he saw the greaves become like those of the Spartans. The segmented cuirass shifted into a metallic linothorax cuirass, segmented plates clicking into position and taking shape of the characteristic armor with the lower armored pturgeas reaching down to his knees from the belt that had reformed. The gauntlets transformed in tune, perfectly molding around his arms and hands and geometrically mimicking the muscles within.

The robes on the other hand, glowed into a bright light and reformed into a long flowing cloak of crimson and a long tunic under the linothorax.

He saw a reflective panel in time to see the mask take on a new form.

The mask was shifting into a fully enclosed helmet, the Yautja face, and dreadlocks disappearing and in its place formed the intimidating visage of a Spartan Corinthian helm. A synthetic rendition of a horsehair crest projected perfectly straight out a foot long and trailed a shining metallic ponytail down his back to his waist like his hair. And to finish it off, the lenses protecting Alaric's eyes glowed blue. And from inside the helmet, Alaric could see a runic Heads Up Display holographic project in his view. A layout of his body and the armor showed up, showing optimal status. Those disappeared shortly and were replaced by an interface that encompassed a communications system, vital signs, navigation and suit status before those faded from sight. Then, the mask highlighted his entire view, switching through various vision modes, ranging from the tradition thermal and night vision to some modes Alaric had never seen before.

This level of tech was far beyond anything Alaric had seen so far from his previous mask's interface.

Alaric also found, much to his surprise, that the even the ornamentation had changed and was now resembling his warpaint, especially on the helm with the weeping flames seeping from the eyes and a lambda symbol formed like a crown on the Corinthian mask. There were also a myriad of ancient Greek style patterns and his runes all over the armor, concentrated on his linothorax, greaves, gauntlets and helm, flashing into life.

"Adaptation complete." the voice confirmed.

He couldn't resist stroking the helmet with a finger in admiration.

Alaric looked at his armor before looking at the dead Spartan's for comparison. The armor he wore looked fit for a king himself. No doubt about that since Gri'nyr was the clan leader.

Looking closer to the left gauntlet, he could see that there was a circular pad with a geometrical pattern of circuitry in place of a wrist-comp. Alaric could only guess what it was for.

Alaric looked back down and noticed some things lying around where the armor had been resting.

Now we're talking. Alaric thought as he saw what he had needed.

Alaric reached into the sarcophagus and pulled out what looked like an inert, flawlessly crafted combistave. After several seconds in his hand, runes and indentations glowed blue. Then with a sharp click, the weapon armed and extended a thick spear head, one foot in length and six inches wide, formed at the end with a smaller counterbalancing spike at the bottom. The weapon extended to a length of ten feet, runes and indentations then glowed blue and, to Alaric's surprise, sparks of lightning were arcing up and down the spear and coiling around his hand.

"Groovy." Alaric said in amazement as the comb stick formed into the Dory spear that the Spartans wielded.

Alaric placed the dory against the sarcophagus before he reached in again and found another weapon. In its scabbard was a characteristic sword that the Spartans once wielded.

A Kopis.

Alaric picked it up gently and unsheathed it, the two foot S-shaped forward curving blade making a nice song of metal as it left the scabbard. He held the sword in his hand for a few moments, watching the light glint off the half fullered blade. The first foot of blade formed into a forward curve before the second half straightened into a rather wicked double edge point. Evidently, this blade could serve a mean stab should the opportunity arise but on the other hand, it would serve as a vicious hacking weapon. The rune decorated hilt and cross guard curved forward protecting the index and little finger like a set of brass knuckles while the back of the guard followed up the blade for six inches.

Alaric tried a few swipes and heard it whistle through the cold air before he brushed his fingers along the blade. Touch receptors in the gauntlets allowed Alaric to feel the blade as if he was using his bare hands.

The blade was so smoothed and polished and the edge so sharp that the air proved little resistance to it. Flesh and bone would likely prove to be no deterrent too.

"Brilliant." Alaric said, sheathing the blade back in its scabbard

Alaric looked for a place to attach it on the suit and, experientially, placed it behind on his hip, grip to his right. Much to his surprised, the scabbard sharply connected to the belt and there was a slight buzz of power. Alaric gave a scabbard a good tug and he found that it had fix securely to the belt. In fact, Alaric felt new bindings securing the Kopis to his belt.

Retractable magnetic holsters? Alaric thought as he reached for the dory.

He looked at it for a moment, trying to find the button or mechanism to retract it. However, the dory retracted on its own accord and it did so rather quickly.

Alaric at that point had another hunch. He held out the dory and thought in his head ' Activate'. The dory quickly armed itself and, with another thought 'Deactivate', the dory retracted.

Alaric cracked a smile behind the helmet's visage.

It would appear that the weapon activated on the mental command of its user.

"These Yautja knew how to make things." Alaric said in respect.

Alaric holstered the dory behind his hip with the Kopis, firmly attaching itself to his belt as the former. Alaric then picked up his axes and went about attaching to the armor. He was surprised to see that the armor had formed specially made holsters for his axes where he would normally have them. His great axe fitted nicely under the crimson cloak, serving to hide his weapon and his hand axes attached firmly to his thighs.

Alaric finished off by unlatching Razeal in its holster from his ruined armor and, after some adjusting, attached it to the linothorax where he would usually have it.

Over his heart.

He then reached down to the remains of his armor at his feet and detached the pouch that contained his tome before he attached it the belt. He was surprised when he felt the armor accommodate it at will.

Alaric looked around inside the sarcophagus some more and his shoulders drooped.

"Damn." Alaric said, straightening up. "No scythe."

He sighed before raising his head. He felt the dory and Kopis on his belt and Alaric just remembered the Spartan, Remembered that there was one thing missing.

"One last thing." he said, turning around.

Alaric headed over to claim the shield. He knelt before the honored dead, taking in the Spartan's broken form. He felt apprehensive about removing such a cherished object from its owner.

"I am sorry about this, Ancestor." he apologized, bowing his head.

Alaric started to carefully remove the Spartan's shield from his arm, taking care not to snap any appendages off. He carefully uncurled the Spartan's frozen fingers from the shield's Argive grip, ice flaking off of the creaking plating. Alaric then braced himself on the shield, getting a secure grip and gave a small twist then a tug. The shield come off with a loud solid clunk as the seal holding it to it's owner's arm gave away.

Alaric heft up the shield, turned it around to see the back, and raised a brow. Aside from the hand grip, there was no ring for his arm to go through. Where the ring would be at the centre of the shield, there was a circular pad with intricate circuitry spreading around from it like tree roots. There was also a series of plating that made up the outline of a forearm.

"Interesting." Alaric said, examining the circuitry.

Alaric looked at the Spartan's arm, and saw that the dead warrior had the same arrangement of circuitry as he did.

Alaric looked at his left gauntlet's pad and brought his arm to the back of the shield. The pad's circuitry glowed and the shield clanged suddenly on contact, making Alaric jump slightly. Power surged through the gauntlet as the shield fixed itself to his arm securely, arcs of lightning surging around the shield as the scythe and lambda emblem glowed. Then armored articulated bands shifted over his gauntlet, forming the shield rings that were missing before.

Alaric hefted the shield up and down as it dimmed out, getting accustomed to its weight. It was heavy as would be expected on his arm but it was not as heavy as he first thought. The aspis by its design was an inch thick, shallow bowl. Normally it was made of solid oak carved into shape, backed with leather, and faced with bronze plating. This one was made in the same composite style but with different metal alloys and such, whatever was chosen by the smith. And with its weight, it could serve to deliver a mean shield bash to gain some room in a fight.

Alaric gave the shield a thump with his fist and he heard a solid thunk when his armored hand connected to the shield. Alaric saw also that when his fist impacted the metal, the shield glowed blue in that spot and a small flash of sparks was seen.

Alaric was intrigued from this sight and for further clarification; he picked up piece of his ruined armor at his feet. He chucked it up into the air and then swatted it with his shield. The shield flashed as at impacted the metal fragment and it was smacked far and fast, impacted the far wall with a loud metallic ping.

Alaric lowered the shield as arcs of energy swirled around it before vanishing.

Energy shielding, he thought with awe.

That was when he heard something that stopped his admiration.

"Getting all armored up are we?" A voice said, in English oddly, snapping Alaric out of his amazement.

Alaric looked up and, much to his shock and surprise, he saw a misty apparition of Gri'nyr, in his armor and a pale blue aura burning around him, sitting on the rim of the sarcophagus. It was enough to make Alaric fall back with a loud clatter of armor plating against the stone pillar, being held up by his great axe.

More so because he hadn't had any blinding pain in his head before hand.

Gri'nyr simply tilted his head at Alaric's reaction, his dreadlocks trailing down onto the stone steps.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Gri'nyr joked, before indicating to the blood on the floor. "I apologize about the mess but it couldn't be helped."

Alaric was silent, not knowing what to make of this sight. Gri'nyr gave Alaric a look over and he seemed pleased about it.

"I see that my armor hasn't killed you." Gri'nyr said pointing at the armor that Alaric wore. Before noticing the axes. "And my axes are on your person. So, you must indeed be one of our bloodline." he concluded.

He than stood up before he straightened his robes and his dreadlocks.

"In that momentous case, I have a message to tell you." he added.

He then cleared his throat, like he had been rehearsing for this moment.

"At long last, one of our bloodline has returned." he started. "As was foretold in the Annals of Fate."

He then slowly paced from end of the sarcophagus to the other and back again.

"For generations we, the bloodline of our progenitor Cetanu, have fought the Primarchs and their kin. The Ossian's successors and killers." he said as he walked. "We alone had the strength and courage to do so, losing many of our blood and many of our closest allies. Our task was almost complete, but we were betrayed by our bitter and cowardly rivals, those who feared and envied us for what we were. Our clan was destroyed, our people and our closest allies slaughtered, our homeworld stolen from us and our memory scrubbed from our race's history. Those of us left are being hunted down like prey even as this message plays. We can only hope that one of our line would rise up and avenge us from this betrayal. And now, our hope has been fulfilled."

He stopped pacing, waiting for Alaric to respond.

Alaric was still silent from shock from what he was seeing.

"Is it good?" Gri'nyr asked. "I had the last few millennia to work on it, not much else to do inside there." Gri'nyr quipped, gesturing to the sarcophagus. "And the bit about the annals was improvised. I never read them, wasn't allowed to."

Alaric shook himself out of his shock, trying to clear his head as he removed his helmet.

"Okay." Alaric awkwardly said, getting back on his feet.

He then gave his head a few taps and waving his hand in front of his eyes, making sure he wasn't hallucinating again.

"Blinding flashes haven't occurred." Alaric muttered to himself. "And I'm not freezing any more. Must be real this time."

Alaric took a breath.

"Are you some kind of... ghost?" Alaric asked Gri'nyr.

Gri'nyr leaned nonchalantly against the sarcophagus.

"Me?" he questioned before he gave a curt laugh. "In a way. I am a fragment of my consciousness, housed within the armor and, at the moment, out of it." he then made a little gesture. "Think of me as… an A.I construct."

So far, so good. Alaric thought. Something plausible, finally.

"So... where did your body go?" Alaric asked, pointing at the sarcophagus. "I mean I couldn't find anything organic, or what had been organic, in there."

Gri'nyr looked back into the empty sarcophagus.

"My body has already joined the Ancestors." Gri'nyr said, before resuming his attention to Alaric. "My purpose now is to guide the one who will avenge our line. Only then will I be able to fully join the Progenitor." he then made a gesture that seemed malevolent "Make those who took everything from us pay."

He then caught eyes on the Spartan propped against the pillar.

"He was one of my closest friends." Gri'nyr said, remorsefully. "A true warrior to the end. His fate was better than the rest of his comrades."

Alaric could sympathize with that. Compared to being torn apart by one of those bugs, this was more preferable.

"Why did your armor change form after nearly killing me?" Alaric asked.

Gri'nyr looked slightly puzzled from Alaric's question.

"The armor that you now wear one belonged to me, as it belonged to my father and those before him." Gri'nyr revealed. "In our clan, a warrior's armor is not just protection; it is an extension of one's self. Hence, the armor is what you feel it to be and what you choose to be."

Alaric was silent, with a blank look that showed that this wasn't registering with him.

"It changed to reflect your Spartan heritage. Something that you hold dear." Gri'nyr clarified. "Much of how our items gain strength is that it comes from all who came before." Gri'nyr explained. "Such items are treasured among our clan, a tangible link to the ancestors and our progenitor."

Alaric was still silent.

"All of this you already understand, of course." Gri'nyr stated with a confidant tone.

"No." Alaric said, with slight apprehension.

A long pause filled the room as Gri'nyr's shoulders drooped in surprise. It was almost as if he was dumbfounded by Alaric's response. Gri'nyr then made a comical gesture of clearing his ears.

"What?" Gri'nyr said, at a loss from Alaric's answer. "Alert me if I'm wrong but, since you're here, you do know how our clan was wiped out, don't you?" he sincerely asked.

"Our clan?" Alaric questioned before he scoffed. "I don't know about you Yautja, but the Mongols had murdered Grimnir's family after he was betrayed."

Gri'nyr cocked his head in confusion. Like he had trouble believing what Alaric said.

"Mongols?" Gri'nyr queried, enunciating the word, before he realized what Alaric meant. "You mean those scattered tribes of horseman from the eastern steppes of your world? What gave you that assumption?" He then scoffed. "And, more importantly, why a bastardized version of my name?"

"Your name?" Alaric asked before he gave a condescending chuckle. "I'm sorry, but Grimnir was a human last time I checked."

Gri'nyr after giving some thought, wagged a finger in realization as he put the pieces together.

"Ah, I see." he said, with a slight laugh "You haven't been initiated into the forgotten history of our clan. The Tome would've been cryptic to prevent interpretation from the enemy."

Alaric's grin was swiftly wiped from his face when he heard that. He subconsciously reached for the pouch in which his tome was kept.

"The Tome." Gri'nyr repeated. "You know, leather bound with our clan symbol on it?" He then pointed. "And, from the way you're reacting, the Tome is on your person."

Alaric reached for his tome, bringing it out into view. Gri'nyr nodded when he saw it.

"That's it." Gri'nyr asked, stepping closer. "Bring it here."

Alaric held it out.

"Open it." Gri'nyr asked.

Alaric flicked it open to a random page, one which had both runic script and illustrations, and Gri'nyr nodded after he read the runes for a few seconds.

"That is Tse'los's penmanship." Gri'nyr confirmed. "Everything is changed to human history but the truth is still there. And he was quite an artist too."

He looked up to Alaric as he remembered something that he had been desperate to know.

"How is the clan, by the way?" he asked with hope. "Did you eventually regroup after the betrayal?"

"Regroup?" Alaric questioned, placing his tome back in its pouch. "I don't know what you're talking about but I am the _only_ survivor of my family."

Gri'nyr stood back up, almost in shock.

"The _only_ one?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, unless you count my son." Alaric clarified. "He's dead, along with his mother. Murdered by Yautja, who had been trying to kill me since I was a kid."

Gri'nyr looked almost devastated.

"Those cowards are still after our line after all these centuries?" Gri'nyr said, with shock laced with anger. "That bastard is devoted to getting what he wants." he then cupped his chin in thought. "Maybe the others didn't get away." he shook his head. "No, You're here, so that means they did escape. They may be hiding."

Gri'nyr looked to the discarded armor pile next to his tome. He could make out the tribal patterns from what was left of the plating. He sighed.

"Hard to believe that the Yautja could have fallen so far from grace." he said, sadly. "All because of racial pride. A once proud people reduced to a primal conglomeration of tribes."

"If by primal you mean ripping heads off anything they deem sporting, yes they are primal." Alaric said. "Then again, I'd imagined that you and your group might have done the same too."

Gri'nyr laughed sharply at that comparison. Alaric raised a brow from this reaction the ghost gave.

"Is that anyway to speak of your ancestors?" Gri'nyr asked, mockingly hurt at the prospect. "Using such a primitive comparison?"

Alaric rolled his eyes as Gri'nyr brought up the ancestors stuff again.

"There you go again." He exasperatedly said, his patience about it wearing thin. "_My_ ancestors are those Spartans." Alaric hotly declared, pointing to the Spartan's corpse "I am a human being. Not a Yautja! _Fact_!"

Gri'nyr ominously stood up straight. It would seem that he wasn't fooling around any more about this ancestors business. And he was evidently at his end with Alaric.

"Maybe." Gri'nyr pointed out. "But, given the circumstances, even a Spartan wouldn't be able to wear my armor and survive the bonding you went through. Blood binding doesn't work that way."

Gri'nyr walked up to Alaric, stopping a mere foot from him. Alaric wasn't intimidated by the display of authority.

"You would have to be one of my descendants to wear my armor." Gri'nyr said, reaching for his mask. "One of _my_ blood. One of _our_ blood!"

Gri'nyr reached for his mask; the ornate decorations inscribed upon it glowed as he touched the metal. Gri'nyr lowered his mask and Alaric saw a stark change that he was not expecting. Something that stood out from the ghostly apparition.

Gri'nyr indeed had a Yautja face, though completely lacking the head crest. His dreadlocks were arranged very much like a human's hair, with a style that mimicked Alaric's own hair. And more than anything else, Gri'nyr's eyes were exactly the same as Alaric's.

A dark ruby red.

Alaric stepped back. He was completely taken by surprise from what he saw. so much that he had dropped the Corinthian helm and it impacted the stone floor with a loud metallic thud.

"How are your eyes..." Alaric started.

"My youngest son survived after all." Gri'nyr said, his eyes flashing into a bright crimson. "Is this enough confirmation?" he asked pointing at his eyes as his dreadlocks stood up into a spiked mane.

Alaric blinked in shocking surprise.

This Yautja had the Rage as he did?

"How can..." Alaric gasped.

"Ever wondered why you and your family always had these eyes when no other oomans ever did?" Gri'nyr continued. "Ever wondered how such a feature could survive many generations as strong as the first? Ever wondered how you could harness incredible strength, far more than any ooman, whenever your need was dire?"

And, to round it all off, Gri'nyr decided to drop a bombshell.

"How is it you could see the visions of our forgotten past, our forgotten battle, on your way here?" he said, looking up with his eyes before dropping said bombshell. "And led by a silver hawk if I'm not mistaken."

That was the clincher in this argument.

Alaric looked around for the hawk from where Gri'nyr was looking but it was nowhere to be seen.

Alaric was processing what he had heard, putting all the similarities together. To his knowledge, outside his family line, no other human had these characteristics. The slayer tongue, though partly ancient Greek was wholly unique to him alone. Yet, these Yautja and the Spartans were speaking the same language like they had always been speaking it. Maybe the dwarves understood it as well. Plus, the runes in his tome are the same as the ones in this temple.

And how did Gri'nyr know about the hawk?

Was the hawk his pet that Kas'tigyr had mentioned?

The pieces than connected inside Alaric's head.

"Are you saying... _you're_ my ancestor!?" Alaric concluded in disbelief.

Gri'nyr laconically clapped his hands.

"I thought my bastardized name already established that." Gri'nyr reminded. "And yes, this is a lot to take in."

'A lot to take in' wasn't exactly what Alaric was going through.

Alaric held his head, thinking of some way to deny the possibility. He became flustered as his eyes darted from side to side, his breathing became erratic and his hands ran through his hair, tugging it on every stroke.

Gri'nyr's expression soon turned to concern from Alaric's reaction.

"You really didn't know?" Gri'nyr questioned with concern. "Your father didn't tell you?"

Alaric was still being erratic and the mention of his father made him snap.

"It's not possible!" Alaric declared. "I don't look anything like you!"

Gri'nyr laconically chuckled.

"Denial." Gri'nyr said dryly, placing his mask back on as his dreadlocks fanned back down. "Very ooman trait. We've already established that we have the same eyes, same hair, so to speak, _and_ have our progenitor's power flowing within us."

"Bullshit!" Alaric replied in defiance. "Does it look like I have mandibles?!" Alaric questioned, pointing at his mouth and than his hair "Do I have tubes for hair?! You're _not_ my ancestor!"

Gri'nyr wasn't at all concerned about Alaric's insistence on the matter. He just gave a laugh laced with irony.

"It's amazing how many generations it takes between my time and yours for you to act like that." Gri'nyr remarked. "I don't know the reason for you not knowing the truth, but trying to tell you everything will take up too much of what little time you have." Gri'nyr stated, raising his hands. "It's much simpler if I showed you."

"Show me?" Alaric spat in disbelief. "This place has been fucking up my head long enough!"

Alaric swiped out a fist to try and dissipate Gri'nyr and rid himself of this now decided hallucination, but he was in for a shocking surprise.

Gri'nyr actually caught Alaric's fist in his hand with an audible smack. Alaric was so shocked by this revelation that he didn't resist at all.

A ghost, if you could call Gri'nyr that, had caught his fist.

"What the...?" Alaric stammered.

"Is this real enough for you?" Gri'nyr asked.

Gri'nyr lowered Alaric's hand.

"Descendant." Gri'nyr commanded. "Listen carefully."

Alaric in the meantime, regained his senses and struggled to get free. Gri'nyr kept him in his grasp as tendrils of light encircled Alaric's hand.

"Choice is a factor in this matter." he explained, firmly keeping his grip on Alaric. "Here and now, you can choose to accept what I am about to show you or not. But, regardless of what you believe, our Progenitor runs through our blood. We all bear a shard of him within ourselves. And you will have to face it sooner or later. You'll never learn to control our Progenitor's power until you accept that he is a part of you."

"Get off me!" Alaric demanded. "I don't believe any of this! I cannot be descended from a Yautja!"

"No. Something far more." Gri'nyr corrected. "Now, back to a more important matter."

Gri'nyr gave a curt but slightly ominous chuckle.

"This may feel a little strange." he said, raising his free hand towards Alaric's head.

The aura surrounding Gri'nyr flared into life brightening the entire chamber. And, from what Alaric could make out, the flames on Gri'nyr's back were taking on the rough shape of wings.

Alaric had a feeling that he had seen something like this in the past. Then he remembered when he was thirteen.

The Ghost that saved his life from a psychotic Xeno extremist patriarch.

Alaric was now losing his cool from what Gri'nyr was doing.

"What are you doing?!" Alaric demanded.

"Open your mind." Gri'nyr advised, as his hand flashed with bright light.

That was when a sharp pain erupted in Alaric's head, causing him to grab his head and strain against the intense tide as Gri'nyr disappeared like a dying flame. Alaric eyes were aflame with blue fire as he yelled out aloud with unimagined pain against a sensation that drove right into his very being.

Like what the armor did before but far more painful. Almost like it was burning right into his soul.

"What have you done?!" Alaric strained through his teeth as he tried to fight the pain. "My head!"

It felt like his head was going to explode the harder he tried to fight it. Covering his eyes proved futile as the blue flames slipped through his fingers. However, these were not flames in the literal sense as they did not burn.

"Open your mind." Gri'nyr's voice commanded from within Alaric's head.

That was enough for Alaric to lose his concentration to fight for a second but that was more then enough.

Alaric's eyes flashed into a more intense flame that generated a swirling fire storm around his head. And just as quickly, the flames died out. And that was when he collapsed hard into the stone pillar with a loud clatter of armor plating before sliding into a heap. Alaric had passed out before he hit the ground, his vacant eyes still burning with blue flame from within. Were it not for his ragged breathing, he might have been mistaken for dead.

The hawk at this point flew down from it's hiding place and landed next to the comatose Alaric, nestled itself next to his head and it's eyes glowed as the light in it's metallic feathers rippled, keeping a watchful eye over his unconscious form.


	24. Chapter 23

HEY ALL!

I am so sorry for making you all wait but things have been rough lately. first and foremost, when making some space on my USB for the holiday, I had... accidentally erased my work. I was so bloody frustrated but luckily I had a copy that I was able to work from. but I managed to get back to where I was and proceeded further by the time my holiday ended.

Also, this is the longest chapter by far as more and more ideas just kept popping in. among them are new plotlines that you may have already picked up and there are a few references to other things that had inspired me. Points, and maybe a future inclusion into the story to those who can get the references. If so, then please PM me rather than use the review box, along with the customary update status posts.

And, there are a few surprises in store. I will be posting the beta'd version on a later date.

so without further due, read away!

* * *

><p>Chapter 23- The forgotten betrayal.<p>

When Alaric finally regained consciousness, and the pain was reduced to a mild throbbing, he saw as soon as his vision returned that he was once again in the all enveloping haze. But he was not floating as he had been before. In fact he was laying on what appeared to be solid ground that was indistinguishable from the haze that surrounded him. It was almost like the floor was made of frosted glass.

He also found that he was still wearing the armour and the corinthian helmet was where he had dropped it. Alaric sat himself up and looked around; patting himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating again. As far as he could tell he was real. However, when he patted his chest, he found that Razeal in its holster was no longer there. In fact, when he patted his hips, back and belt none of the weapons, be it his axes or spartan blades, were there.

Alaric started looking around his feet, searching his precious heirlooms, thinking they may have come loose when he lost consciousness and ended up on the ground. He could not find them anywhere.

Alaric now felt very vulnerable.

"Don't worry." Gri'nyr's voice echoed all around. "No harm can get you here. You are perfectly safe".

Alaric swiftly got to his feet, grabbing the helmet for an impromptu cudgel before looking around and trying to pin point where Gri'nyr might be.

"Where have you brought me?" Alaric demanded, darting his head from side to side and rotating his stance. "Where am I?!"

"Isn't obvious?" Gri'nyr stated, his voice echoing around. "You've been here many times. We're inside your head. In the deepest recesses of your mind to be exact."

Gri'nyr suddenly materialised right behind Alaric, his head level with his ear.

"And my, is it cloudy." He remarked right in Alaric's ear.

Alaric nearly jumped at that sudden speech right in his ear. Instead, he straightened up and turned to Gri'nyr who had now stood up to full height. Alaric raised a hand and gave Gri'nyr an cautionary poke. His hand went through Gri'nyr, the yautja's form like the haze.

"You're a ghost again?" Alaric asked apprehensively.

Gri'nyr responded with a poke of his own and this time his hand went through Alaric as a ghost would.

"If I choose to." Gri'nyr stated, repeating the motion and this time Alaric felt it. "And more so here."

Gri'nyr stepped back.

"This is most perplexing." Gri'nyr said, gesturing to the mist around them. "You really have no knowledge about your past."

"My past is in this tome." Alaric corrected, pointing to the tome in it's pouch.

"That's only the surface. Disguised to hide the truth." Gri'nyr corrected in turn.

"Have you ever wondered about your dreams?" Gri'nyr questioned. "Why they feel so... real, yet sometimes so... unfamiliar?"

Gri'nyr could see from Alaric's silence that Alaric was indeed familiar with what Gri'nyr was implying. And he could see that the dreams had Alaric pondering about his own self throughout his life.

"Yes." Alaric finally admitted.

Gri'nyr simply bowed his head in understanding.

"As we are of our progenitor's blood, the memories of our ancestors sometimes emerge to the younger generations as cryptic dreams." Gri'nyr explained, raising a hand to his head, his fingers rapping against the masterly forged metal. "It's just a matter of knowing where to find them to know what they mean."

Gri'nyr started to gently recite a litany and his gauntlet started to glow. Symbols of various kinds started to gently arc around his hand. When a specific series of symbols were manifested, they all moved as one back into the gauntlet.

Gri'nyr finished chanting before motioning his hand away from his masked head and Alaric could see a faintly glowing blue flame seeping from the yautja's head, drawing a glowing arc with embers drifting as Gri'nyr brought the flame to Alaric. The flame swirled and burned brighter as Gri'nyr tenderly cradled and motioned the fire in his hands in the manner of handling a small animal, the flames licking against his armoured fingers.

"There we are." Gri'nyr said contently as the flame burned into pure light.

He raised his hand up high and the flame erupted into a magnificent firestorm that encircled all around them. Alaric tightened his grip on his helmet, it's crest and his cloak waving in the wind created by the flames, shielding his eyes from the intense light. Gri'nyr's robes billowed also as his armour glowed.

As the flames burned around, the haze evaporated and from what Alaric could see, the sight of stone walls and intricate carvings was revealed. He was being brought back to the temple.

And then the haze dissipated completely.

"Welcome to my final hours." Gri'nyr introduced. "My last memories of life."

Alaric looked around, getting a good view of the surroundings. It would appear that a stone hall had materialised around him, ornately decorated with the same level of craftsmanship as seen before. But everything seemed dull and lifeless. Alaric turned back to Gri'nyr but, at this point and not even surprising; he was nowhere to be seen. Gri'nyr had vanished once again.

"Where have you gone this time?" Alaric questioned.

That was when he saw Gri'nyr standing next to a stone wall ahead of him. And this time, much to Alaric's surprise, he was holding his scythe on his shoulder and Alaric's axes on his back and hips.

"There you are." Alaric said walking up and going right up to Gri'nyr. "Why have you brought me back here?"

Gri'nyr wasn't responding to Alaric. In fact when Alaric stood directly in front and gave him a poke, his hand just went through Gri'nyr. Gi'nyr wasn't moving an inch. He was just standing as still as a statue.

"Hello?" Alaric said, snapping his fingers. "Anybody home?"

Gri'nyr still wasn't responding. That was until Alaric heard him speak. But not from the intended direction.

"Quite a likeness, isn't it?" Gri'nyr's voice said, from right behind Alaric.

Alaric looked behind him and he almost jumped when he saw Gri'nyr standing right there. He then darted his head between both Gri'nyrs. Gri'nyr walked up to his doppelganger and ran his hand just off the scythe in reverence.

"Our progenitor's scythe is quite a sight isn't it?" Gri'nyr stated with a hint of remorse. "It's a shame it's no longer with us."

Alaric looked back to the Gri'nyr with the scythe.

"This isn't like... those visions?" Alaric asked, pointing at the armed Gri'nyr.

"No, these are far clearer. Not the imprints you have been seeing." Gri'nyr explained. "These are my memories. It will be like you're in my boots, so to speak."

At that point, Alaric felt himself suddenly lifted off his feet and was motioned back from the apparition of Gri'nyr, back to where he was before. Gri'nyr appeared in front of him, fading into view like morning mist.

"I advise you to stay put for this." Gri'nyr advised before his armour glowed and the aura flared into life, forming the wings of flame as Alaric had seen before. "The view is better."

The surroundings at that point were starting to flicker into life, colour surging into them and now appearing more lifelike.

"Now, watch and learn." Gri'nyr ended fading into nothingness.

At that point, other figures suddenly materialised in a wave of life, fully coloured and not hazy in the slightest and Alaric soon found himself viewing a scene as if he was actually there in person.

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr was standing with his brothers, his scythe resting against his shoulder and it's blade shining. Kas'tigyr was busy doing a slow practice of manoeuvres, similar to the art of Tai Chi, his gauntlets glowing and leaving a pattern of energy streams behind. Tse'los was cross legged on the floor tending to his crows beak, running a polishing stone along the blade's edge. Sitting next to Tse'los was Eitri polishing his hammer, his helmet off and his long beard and shoulder length braids, thick and studded with geometric jewellery, resting down.<p>

There were seven yautja warriors, each of whom were meditating and whispering litanies, their myriad weaponry on their backs and hips. There were also eight dwarves, three of whom were armed with gauss rifles, who were busy binge drinking from their tankards, grooming their beards of varying lengths or playing with dice. And there was ten spartans who were occupying themselves either by exercising, practising spear thrusts or polishing their shields.

Gri'nyr was looking somewhat anxious, and also concerned. He was also pacing up and down, anticipating something bad was going to happen. His brothers were noticing his state of mind.

"Gri'nyr, what is it?" Kas'tigyr asked, sweeping a fist before blocking. "You've been edgy for a while."

Gri'nyr gripped the scythe tightly in his hands before lightening his grasp.

"My sons haven't reported in." Gri'ny answered.

"I'm sure they're fine." Eitri assured, pausing his work and eyeing the shine on the hammer's head. "You trained them after all."

"And they pleaded to see the Primarch in the flesh." Tse'los added, checking his crows beak's edge before resuming his treatment. "Something they wanted to see since we told them stories about our exploits."

Gri'nyr grasped the scythe and motioned it around, the blade's decorations glowing in the wind.

"Still they shouldn't have gone to face the primarch without us." Gri'nyr said. "Especially with... Her."

"With the Stone in her possession and her powers at her will, that primarch is as good as dead." Kas'tigyr assured. "And not even the Hive Mind will save it. We're here in case anything goes wrong, which it won't. Hell, we had little trouble forcing it and even one of it's kin into the vault."

"I know that, but you know what she is like about them." Gri'nyr sighed, rubbing his masked face.

He turned to Tse'los who was finishing up his ministrations.

"Any contact with Xhel'khala yet?" he asked, almost half-heartedly.

"Not a thing." Tse'los shrugged, continuing to run the stone along the crows beak. "We have not received any word on their arrival or if they made planetfall. I had sent a scouting party to try and find them but they have found nothing yet."

Kas'tigyr laughed loudly and sharply stopped his practice, his dreadlocks unfurling from his neck and prompting some of his fellow yautja to raise a head. The dwarves didn't even pause their binge drinking from it.

"Find them?" he questioned, re-wrapping his dreadlocks before growling. "Pah! If those bastards don't want to be found then they won't be found. Hiding is the only thing they can do well. That and dishonourable back stabbing if they get the chance"

Eitri reached for his belt, balancing his hammer on one knee. He pocketed the cloth into a metal tube before grabbing his pipe and placing it on top of his hammer before reaching down again.

"There you go again with the disdain about them." Eitri said, fumbling about in another pouch. "What's your grudge against them anyway?"

Gri'nyr and his brothers looked at each other as if the question didn't need answering. The yautja warriors shook their heads in contempt and the Spartans and a few dwarves banged their shields or tankards at the mention.

It was evident that they held their rivals in very low opinion. And it wasn't in the sense of superiority over inferiors.

"What's not to grudge against them?" Gri'nyr corrected. "That's the proper question."

Tse'los stopped running the stone before thumbing the blade, keeping his eyes level with the blade.

"Our clan's relationship with them goes back to before the Founding." Tse'los explained, putting the stone into a pouch. "And suffice to say, our clans have been at each other's throats since that time." He lowered his weapon. "Think of us as complete opposites."

"They seem to think that the Yautja are the master race of all things. Always have, always will and nothing to deter them from that belief." Kas'tigyr explained before hammering his fist on his head making a dull chorus of thuds. "They have that belief hammered into their heads before they can walk."

The yautja around them snickered in confirmation. Eitri at this point finally found a bunch of tobacco and went about stuffing it into his pipe.

"They're that bad?" Eitri asked, striking a match and lighting his pipe.

Gri;nyr rested against the stone wall.

"In their narrow minded opinion, there are only two races in this galaxy: Yautja and everything else below them." Gri'nyr explained. "Anything not fit enough for enslavement or has outlived its usefulness is killed. And slaves to them are lower than dirt."

He then chuckled as he leaned on his scythes haft. Eitri puffed on his pipe, smoke seeping through his beard as he tossed the spent match.

"Despite their delusions of superiority, they hardly put up a decent fight." he continued. "They only attack when they have numbers on their side, just swarming the enemy with quantity over quality." He then went about shuffling his feet in a submissive manner. "If it wasn't for them grovelling so much to the Council, begging for resources or planets, they would not have survived into this age."

He then laughed, ceasing his submissive expression as he remembered something.

"Do you remember the one time they had thought that they had defeated a hive using, in a rather ironic manner, living-wave tactics and, more predictably, they celebrated too soon?" he asked around.

His brothers, every yautja and even a few Spartans and dwarves either shook their heads in pity at them or just outright laughed. Eitri, who obviously wasn't present for that incident or heard it happen from others, puffed on his pipe.

"An early celebration is just asking for defeat." A dwarf mumbled, rolling his dice before cursing in dwarfish when the roll ended up bad. "Case and point." He added, grudgingly handing a few coins to his opponent.

"Asking? They practically opened up their arms and shouted 'Let us have it!'." Kas'tigyr exclaimed, waving his arms out in demonstration.

He them pretended to get impaled on a xenomorph's tail before dying on the floor in an overly dramatic manner, much to the amusement of the others.

"But anyway, what happened was that they gorged themselves into a drunken stupor, with plenty of slaves, male or female, for the more carnal activities." Gri'nyr continued as his brother got back on his feet. "That primarch hadn't been entirely defeated; it was merely gauging their ability to fight. It's kin came back in the dead of night, in even greater numbers in an act of supreme irony and killed or consumed those idiots while they were face down in the dirt drunk."

Everyone gave out a loud exclamation of ironic exclamation, added with a few short laughs. Eitri was rubbing his eyes, obscured in pipe smoke as he sighed.

"What a complete and utter failure." Eitri said.

"And we had our work cut out for us cleaning up that mess." Tse'los added before he gave a light chuckle. "Mind you, the primarchs didn't bother trying to consume them next time. And I don't blame them."

"And the humiliation that they suffered from the other clans was just stupendous." Kas'tigyr added, sounding all giddy. "It was some time before they their stuck their heads out again." The giddiness was then replaced with disgust. "And then they take their frustrations out on something else they know they can beat."

"Ah, their complete lack of respect for life." Gri'nyr concluded, equally disgusted. "Hunting anything that couldn't defend themselves."

Eitri lowered his pipe. It would appear that this characteristic registered in his mind. In fact, Eitri had heard of a similar incident. One that all the dwarves knew.

"You mean they're the ones who..." he started before he got his answer.

"The very ones." Another dwarf, older with a metal grey beard, confirmed. 'The bastards who hunted everything on Karaz Kragmar."

The dwarves bowed their heads on the mention of the planet's name.

Karaz Kragmar was the name for a dwarf colony on the outskirts of their territory, cut off from the rest of dwarf space by the primarchs' invasion. Despite surviving multiple attacks, contact with the colony was suddenly lost. A supply fleet was quickly dispatched after the primarchs were driven back to reinforce the colony, only to find a ruined world to greet them.

And not by the hands of the Primarchs.

It had since been confirmed that the colony was razed to the ground by Xel'khala, who had taken advantage of its weakened state and the surviving inhabitants were quickly enslaved or killed. At any rate, there was not one dwarf left. And the majority of the planets ecology was hunted to near extinction, leaving only a barely inhabited world left.

The Dwarves had led a brief but very bloody campaign against them in retaliation, gaining back the technology stolen from them and the few survivors that had not been worked or abused to death.

"There was the time we had to, grudgingly and by order of the Council, give them a world, one which we had bled much to protect, in exchange for their support." Gri'nyr recollected. "They had the most warriors for the war; I'd like to make that clear."

He turned to the yautja, who all had an aura of disgust emanating from them from what they were hearing.

"And what did they do?" Gri'nyr questioned. "What did they do the moment they got their filthy claws on that world?"

The answers came quickly and without hesitation.

"Something completely unforgivable." One of the yautja said.

"A violation." Another stated.

"Genocide." A third added.

Gri'nyr turned back to Eitri.

"They hunted and killed every living thing on that planet." He revealed. "They even had the audacity to try and poach one of our sanctuary worlds where we house life nearly consumed by the primarchs. But, they paid the price."

He turned to Kas'tigyr.

"Kas'tigyr saw to that, didn't you?" he reminded.

Kas'tigyr chuckled as he remembered that day, counting his fingers.

"Fifty against one?" he quipped before giving a loud laugh. "Hardly a challenge at all. Honestly, one of my daughters could take them with one hand behind her back."

He then huffed, making his robes billow.

"And all the while they claim that it is nature's law. Kill off the weak so that the strong survive." He continued, waving his hand in a condescending manner.

"And if that was case, they would've been killed off long ago." A yautja warrior with a massive sickle sword known as a Khopesh on his lap stated. "Fucking hypocritical bastards!"

"Those who prey on the weak are weak themselves." Tse'los quoted with reverence. "Grandfather taught us that."

"And a just saying it is." Kas'tigyr praised.

Gri'nyr at that point suddenly held his head and grunted in what was perceived to be discomfort. It would appear that he was suddenly suffering from a migraine. It was enough for him to slightly buckle and use the scythe as a stave to hold him up as he slumped against the stone wall.

His brothers and their fellow warriors watched in anticipation of the sudden discomfort their leader was going through. Eitri stopped puffing on his pipe. This was no migraine that Gri'nyr was suffering.

"Progenitor's soul!" Kas'tigyr said in realisation.

Gri'nyr at that point regained his balance.

"We have to go!" Gri'nyr shouted, heaving himself off the wall. "We have to go now!"

He immediately ran off down the stone corridor, hefting the scythe onto his shoulder. His brothers and rest quickly followed suit, gathering their gear and racing to catch up with their leader.

"That's not good!" Tsel'los shouted to the rest. "She's just contacted Gri'nyr directly."

Eitri quickly put out his pipe, spitting in it to douse the embers before donning his helmet his helmet and raising his hammer. His fellow dwarves scrabbled to gather their tankards and dice, some even resorting to chugging down their brew while running at full speed. Nothing would deter a dwarf from his beer.

"Looks like I'll be seeing a primarch face to face!" he remarked.

"Shut up!"a yautja warrior shouted. "The Grey Lady needs assistance!"

The Spartans sprinted down the corridor after the yautja, managing to keep up with them. The dwarves on the other hand thundered after them as fast as their stocky bodies would let them.

* * *

><p>When they reached the end of the corridor, the dwarves panting hard rumbling breaths, arriving in the vast monolithic hall housing the entrance to the prison, two rows of bloodline warrior statues lining the way, they saw a sight that they had not been expecting.<p>

The Grey Lady was on one knee in front of the massive ornamented stone doors, decorated with a battle scene against the primarchs, cradling her side which was bleeding glowing blood through a gash in her suit. Her sky and cloud grey robes, her namesake, were in tatters from a myriad of holes and tears. Her entourage was dead all around her, their bodies charred, smoking and torn apart with a disturbing cleanness. Their ornate staves were shattered and their diamonds crushed to dust.

From the looks of the dead, it would seem that she was lucky to be alive.

Gri'nyr and his group quickly arrived and they saw the devastation. They immediately rushed forward to her, the Spartans forming a shield wall around her as the dwarves and yautja took up covering positions.

The Grey Lady heard them as she looked up.

"Gri'nyr." She strained. "The Primarch... is still sealed."

"What happened?" Gri'nyr questioned, reaching down to help her up.

"We had been betrayed." She strained, getting on both knees and waving him off. "They were here long before us."

She winced as her wounds were tugged from her movements. The bleeding intensified as she clasped her wound again.

"They attacked us as I was preparing the ritual." she continued. "We couldn't hold against them. Our powers were countered by Hollows."

Gri'nyr and the yautja were immediately taken aback from this word. The dwarves too were surprised from what she said. The spartans however were more puzzled then concerned.

"Hollows?" a spartan said, much to his comrade's puzzlement.

What are Hollows?

'They took the stone!" The Grey Lady said.

That news was enough to make everyone look to her in shock.

"The stone is gone?!" Gri'nyr exclaimed before he looked around. "Where are my sons?"

Gri'nyr could not see his sons anywhere.

"They went... after him." she answered, pointing to the shadows. "I couldn't track them, once they entered the shadows."

She then held her head. She strained in perceived pain as she felt a very dark presence approaching.

"They're coming." she warned, looking up into the darkness.

From the darkness, on a large balcony overlooking the hall, stepped forth a young female yautja. It was one of her entourage, a novice by the lack of ornamentation on her robes. Her face looked dead and numb but there was a clear sign of remorse and heartfelt sadness.

This no doubt one of the Grey Lady's initiates. And her reaction was one of complete and utter shock.

"Vel'lenyr?" The Grey Lady gasped. "No!"

The young initiate blinked sadly as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry... progenitor." Vel'lenyr apologised.

She then fell to her knees and slumped to the ground, letting out a ghostly final breath. As she fell, a white flame-like mist seeped from her eyes and mouth, dispersing into the air. The mist was then sucked into the darkness where it vanished from sight.

That was when a figure stepped out from the darkness.

It was a yautja but it was not one of Gri'nyr's folk. This yautja had lavished and imperiously ornamented armour that spoke for much of the wearer's thoughts. Thoughts of superiority over others. A long black fur lined cloak covered his shoulders and many skulls of various species, humanoid and bestial, hung or were affixed from various places on his armour and cloak.

The most defining feature was a mask that bore a crown. A crown of spikes pointing up and out that added to the imperious nature of the armour. Like self appointed royalty.

In his hand was a large leaf shaped dagger of a strange and alien design. A blade, roughly eighteen inches long and two at it's widest point, that was almost organic in nature with a faint pattern similar to pattern welding was present. It also had a faintly eldritch glow and seemed to pulse and vibrate in his hand.

Gri'nyr and his brothers couldn't believe who they had just seen. The yautja warriors in particular raised their weaponsas the dwarves followed suit.

The yautja looked down at Vel'lenyr's body and he chuckled.

"Never trust a traitor." He quoted, giving the dead yautja a prod with his boot, pushing her onto her front, revealing a massive stab wound in her back where her heart is. "Not even one you create yourself."

It was the one person that that the whole of Gri;nyr's clan despised.

"The Bastard himself." Kas'tigyr cursed.

Gri;nyr stood to his feet, planting the scythe's bladed butt into the stone with a loud metallic clang.

"Xel'Khalos!" Gri'nyr demanded. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Xel'khalos idly sheathed the dagger on his thigh.

"I'm surprised you even asked." He quipped before gesturing to the Grey Lady. "But aren't you forgetting something."

The Grey Lady had by now been focusing on healing her wound. With a litany in an ancient tongue, the wound glowed with white light before it slowly sealed itself seamlessly.

"That witch is full of surprises." Xel'khalos said with a hint of xenophobia.

He then focused back on Gri'nyr.

"You should be happy, Gri;nyr." Xel'khalos reminded, waving his arms up in celebration. "This is a momentous time for your clan."

He then walked up and down the balcony like he was giving a speech to a roaring crowd.

"The last primarch is imprisoned on this ice ball." He orated. "A pity that your clan would not be around to see the celebration."

His celebratory rhetoric soon turned to one of hostility.

"For too long has my clan, my founder, have been humiliated, ostracised and spat upon by your wretched line." he declared. "Planets, resources and lives that should have been, RIGHTLY have been ours, were stolen by you! My clan had to scrape by on virtually nothing to survive. But little by little, we have regained power while you wallowed in the comfort of your paradises."

He then stopped walking, stopping by Vel'lenyr's corpse.

"And now, at the moment of your greatest triumph, you will finally face our wrath." He declared.

He then noticed the Grey Lady had gotten to her feet.

"Your Grey Lady is tougher than she looks." He added, with a hint of annoyance at her survival. "How you refused such an exquisite female for... prey is beyond me."

"You're putting a petty rivalry over the survival of life? At a dark time like this?" Gry'nyr asked. "The Council will never let this go unpunished!"

Xel'khalos gave the impression of mock shock. Like he wasn't taking the accusation seriously.

"The Council?" Xel'khalos questioned before he gave a curt laugh. "Oh, the Council you knew is long gone by this point. I planned for every contingency."

He then boasted about why he was so confidant.

"While you and your inferior race allies were busy bleeding yourselves over your precious duty, my clan has been getting stronger." Xel'khalos stated. "Gaining more influence and... persuading the other clans to accept our way of thinking."

He then gave a sinister chuckle.

"Some have proven subtly pliant. But there are those who require a little more... force." He added. "And there were those who were too resistant to change. So they have been removed from the equation, permanently."

"Already, I have most of the galaxy's eastern rim under my sway, paying tribute and swelling my armies." "Soon, The Dominion of Xel'khala will be a reality."

Kas'tigyr looked to his brothers.

"Well, he's still insane. So nothings changed." he remarked.

"Wiping out other clans who refuse to pledge allegiance." Gri'nyr surmised. "What's to achieve from weaken our race?"

Xel'khalos scoffed at that question.

"Not weaken. To strengthen." Xel'khalos corrected. "To assert our dominion over this galaxy. Our divine right that was stolen from us by the Ossians."

"With the Ossians out of the way, our race can rule over this galaxy!" Xel'khalos urged. "Don;t you see, this is our race's time to ascendancy!"

Gri'nyr would have none of that.

"It is not our place to rule over others!" He countered. "The Ossians thought they could and it literally consumed them and anyone else unfortunate to get in the way!"

Xel'khalos scoffed at the truth. Like he believed that Gri'nyr was the one who was wrong.

"Only because they could not keep firm control over their slaves." Xel'khalos stated, hovering over Vel'lenyr's body. "Something that my clan has perfected as an art."

He reached down to her before ruthlessly driving his clawed gauntlet right into the base of her skull. He drove his hand deep into her head, callously crushing skull and brain matter as he forced his hand around. Green blood was sent streaming from the ragged hole he had made.

Not even the honoured dead were spared from his lack of compassion. The Grey Lady was visibly angered and horrified by this.

With a sharp yank; he wrenched something out from her head with a sickening crunch. The thing he dragged out was nothing more than a mass of slithering tentacles that seemed to writhe within the deepest parts of her body. He wrenched it hard and mercilessly, revealing the tendrils to be completely drawn from the entire spinal column. What's more, the mass was giving off a disturbing chattering scream, confirming that it was some kind of insectoid life form.

Xel'khalos watched the wretched creature thrash and squirm in his grasp, flailing its tentacles around desperately trying to find a new host.

"Though I must say, even at such an advanced stage, your kind can still resist Neuralcytes, albeit momentarily." He remarked before crushing the squirming mass of writhing tentacles in his claws.

Neuralcytes were a malevolent bastardised hybridisation of an exctint insectoid parasite and illegal bio-synthesis. Neuralcytes originally reproduce via hosts that they control through assimilation, but were now vat grown for specific purposes. Assimilation occurs when the parasite implants itself on the brain stem and its tentacles grow and assimilate itself through the host's nervous system. Once a Neuralcyte has completely taken root, the host is under their complete control and act essentially as a sleeper agent. An unwilling and in many cases unwitting puppet to the lifeform. It is rumoured that for a short time after full assimilation the host is aware of their actions but is unable to control them. Removing such a parasite at a late stage is near fatal to the host; those few who are unfortunate to survive are permanently paralysed from their destroyed nervous system.

The Grey Lady was most distraught from the sight of the parasite that had been inhabiting her student's head. The dwarves were disgusted and the spartans were perplexed that such a thing ever existed.

"This little thing had been keeping me alerted to your every move." Xel'khalos revealed, dangling the crushed parasite in his fingers. "And might I say, it had been most enlightening."

Gri'nyr and his brothers were outright mortified and outraged at the use of such an abomination. An innocent girl was used as an unknowing traitor.

"This is a whole new low, even by your pathetically low standards!" Kas'tigyr shouted in disgust.

"Of all the wretched things that could exist, you use those brain takers?!" Eitri shouted.

Xel'khalos took those outbursts as compliments.

"Some species have a use more important than others." Xel'khalos continued, tossing the crushed mass over his shoulder. "Some are nothing but expendable."

He then snapped his fingers sharply and on cue, an entourage appeared with him. There were seven yautja warriors in armour that was similar to their Xel'khalos' but much less ornate. In fact, Xel'khalos looked ridiculously flamboyant in comparison. Three of them, no doubt Xel'khalos' personal bodyguards were each holding a large metal urn. The kind of urn that was used to store trophies. The other four, with no ornamentation at all, had appeared to have been subjected to a massive amount of damage in combat. Their amour was all chipped, torn, slashed, dented and in some places been run through with blades or crushed and twisted from horrific impact. In fact, one of them had his right arm sheared clean off from the shoulder.

With such an incredible amount of wounds, no doubt one or two were supposed to be fatal, how could they possibly be still standing?

Gri'nyr and his fellow yautja, the Grey Lady in particular, were evidently unnerved from the sight of these walking corpses. Even some of the dwarves felt uneasy. The Spartans however were more perplexed then scared. They had never seen anything like this before.

Xel'khalos was pleased with the reactions he was getting.

"I think you'll find that your witchcraft is utterly devoid against my latest warriors. Created from years of experimentation, with plenty of amusing trial and error." Xel'khalos said, walking up to the silent and bloodied yautja. "Even that exquisite Witch that you rejected couldn't stand against them."

He removed the mask of one of them and the secret was revealed. The yautja's bloodied and deathly pale face was bland of all emotion, like a living corpse, and unblinking eyes glowed with a baleful corpse light. A light that illuminated nothing. The only thing that gave any indication of this yautja being considered living was slow deep breathing, or what was thought to be breathing. Like it was just barely clinging to what life was left in its torn and bloodied body.

Everyone reacted in outright contempt.

"Living dead?!" a dwarf gasped.

"Hollows!" Kas'tigyr shouted in disbelief. "How dare you!?"

Hollows is the named given to those who had been subjected to an insidious procedure known as Soul-Drain when their soul is quite literally drained from their body, removing all sense of free will and anything that would be considered living, leaving only a hollow shell. Hollows are reduced to mindless breathing automatons that will follow the orders of their controller without hesitation or question, becoming the perfect servants. As such, they will continue serving even as their bodies are torn apart, decay and eventually die.

And Hollows, lacking a soul, were not affected in the slightest by most Psionics. You cannot affect that which is essentially already dead.

"How dare I?" Xel'khalos questioned, almost in a manner of innocence. "These are the perfect servants. Loyal, lethal and utterly expendable." he then gestured towards the missing arm. "And they're very effective giving the right circumstance. They can take literal tons of abuse and, like a good slave, they never complain."

He then held his chin in thought.

"That reminds me." Xel'khalos remembered. "They had a rather fortuitous encounter with your bastard sons." he then gestured to the Grey Lady. "They were very intent on helping Her."

Xel'khalos grinned behind his mask as Gri'nyr reacted to this outcome, gripping the scythe tightly. He was going to rub some more salt into the wound.

"For their age, they put up a courageous fight." he commended. "Your heir, especially."

He then chuckled in a sinister and foreboding manner.

"They may have had your training, even those sorceries you call 'Signs' at their disposal, but there is no defence against a flood." He continued. "As is nature's way of course."

Gri;nyr at that point wrenched the scythe up and readied it in his hands, the blade glinting in the light.

"What have you done with my sons!?" Gri'nyr demanded, his control slowly eroding from his built up anger.

Xel'khalos raised his hands in a manner to calm Gri'nyr down.

"Don't worry about them. They're free." Xel'khalos assured. "They're completely free."

He snapped his fingers and his three bodyguards stepped up, holding the urns before them. Each opened up the urn with a retracting click, the lids retracting and sliding off the rim, before reaching inside. There was a definite sound of sloshing liquid inside the urns. Gri'nyr and his group were already getting a bad feeling from this.

As one, Xel'khalos' bodyguards pulled out what was in the urns and it was a shock right to the core of Gri'nyr's soul. In each of their hands, clenched by their dreadlocks and dripping with preservation fluid and their own blood, was the severed heads of Gri'nyr's sons. Each of them had a more human facial structure and thinner dreadlocks than their father. Each also had distinctive features, as one was bolder in ornamentation and the other two were no doubt twins as each had reversed patterns of the other.

"Freed from this earthly plane." Xel'khalos clarified. "Freed from their mortal coil." He then raised up the phase-blade, illustrating their demise by drawing it around his neck. "I freed them."

His bodyguards then threw the severed heads of Gri'nyr's sons back to their father as he sheathed the dagger. Each landed with a loud clattering thud that each left a faintly glowing reddish blood splatter where they impacted. Right by Gri'nyr's feet and rolling up to look at him.

The whole group murmured at the sight of this atrocity. Kas'tigyr shouted loudly in the slayer tongue in anger. Tse'los knelt down to the heads, whispering a litany for their souls. The yautja dwarves and Spartans reacted in various ways, ranging from devastation to outright anger.

"Gri'nyr..." The Grey Lady started.

Gri'nyr clenched the scythes haft so hard that his gauntlets creaked from the strain and the scythe glowed from where he was gripping it, spreading up the haft. It was almost as if the scythe could feel his rage building.

"And don't worry about their souls." Xel'khalos called out. "I have them safe, right here."

Gri'nyr and his entourage looked up and much to their horror, Xel'khalos had an item in his hand. Something sacred to the clan and their bloodline. The Grey Lady was the most shocked as it was her duty in his hands.

Xel'khalos held in his hand a levitating sphere of an almost mirror-like silver stone, adorned with glyphs of an unknown scripture that vaguely resembled the runes of the clan. Maybe an older variant. As the stone levitated, it was giving off a pale white aura, that made its shine the more brighter.

It was the Stone.

"The Stone!" The Grey Lady gasped.

Gri'nyr and his brothers quickly pieced together what Xel'khalos had done.

"What blasphemous sacrilege is this!?" Kas'tigyr shouted in rage, his dreadlocks coming undone and draping down to the floor.

Xel'khalos took that outcry as a complement. He just calmly made the Stone levitate around his hand as a show of skill.

"Impressed?" he asked. "It took me many a cycle to master your Stone." he reached into his cloak for something "Having only a fragment of another to work with."

He drew his hand out and, hovering just off his palm, was a ragged piece of mirrored stone the size of his finger with glowing fractures. It looked like it had come from another identical stone.

And from the way the Grey Lady reacted with shocking surprise, it was apparent that in the past there may have been other Stones. Stones which were thought to have been lost or destroyed forever.

"Not much you understand." Xel'kahlos reminded, putting it away before coveting the Stone close to him. "But I now have the full deal."

He then looked back at them.

"And don't worry about your... mate and youngest spawn." Xel'khalos assured, with revulsion lacing those last four words. "I have sent a special entourage to meet them."

Gri'nyr might have been the first one to crack from the sheer disregard for life, but he wasn;t the first one to lose his temper. Nor did his brothers. It was one of his warriors who would take matters in his own hands.

"Enough of this!" the warrior with his large khopesh sword roared. "Progenitor take your souls!"

He then charged at Xel'khalos, intending to rend him open with one swipe. Xel'khalos on the other hand had another idea as he hand the stone to a bodyguard.

Xel'khalos drew from his back an archaic looking weapon and pointed it at the charging warrior. A weapon that was not of yautja or even dwarvern make. Gri'nyr, his brothers and every dwarf, to their horror, recognised what it was by its distinctive fluid, almost organic construction. Glowing green circuitry flared into life and there was green arcs of energy arcing between the long three pronged triangular barrel.

And it was pointed right at the charging warrior.

"Hel'tar, shield!" Gri'nyr shouted.

Xel'khalos gave a wicked smile as he squeezed the trigger. The weapon gave of a sound that sounded like a distorted scream. An unearthly green bolt of energy shot out and soared right for the sword wielding warrior, green arcs of lightning coursing around it giving the impression on a comet screaming through a planet's atmosphere.

Hel'tar was stopped dead in his tracks as the beam tore right through his chest, erupting out of his lower back in a green flash and into the stone floor with his armour giving absolutely no resistance. The sudden impact was enough for his weapon to slip from his fingers in surprise, clattering loudly on the stone floor. Gagging for breath, Hel'tar looked down to his chest where his free hand instinctively clasped it. There was a large ragged, glowing but cleanly blasted hole in his armour and the flesh beneath was charred, smoking and completely dead, crumbling from his breathing.

Xel'khalos gave a sinister chuckle as he squeezed the trigger again.

Hel'tar was then torn about as beam after beam tore through him, blasting out from him in clouds of acrid decay, dead flesh turning to dust that scattered through the air as each beam followed through his body. One bolt tore his right arm off at the elbow, leaving a trail of ash as it fell to the floor to join his weapon. He was eventually finished off with a beam to the eye, blowing out the back of his head. His lifeless body fell backwards hard into the stone floor, which had been gouged with many deep holes, and landed hard enough for black acrid smoke to billow out of his horrific wounds, especially from the charred gaping eye socket.

"Phase Disruptors!" Tse'los gasped in realised horror.

"Talk about unsporting!" Eitri yelled in anger.

Xel'khalos raised the arcane weapon in a show of victory.

"Is that fear I can sense?" he questioned. "Oh yes, these are weapons even you are afraid of."

He then fired at one of the Spartans who blocked the shot with his shield. The green bolt impacted the shield in a bright flash with arcs of blue lightning. The shield received a black smoking scorch mark from where the bolt impacted. Arcs of blue sparks danced along the face of the shield as the Spartan lowered it. The Spartan threw his spear in retaliation, crackling with blue lightning in retaliation at Xel'khalos. Xel'khalos simply grabbed the nearest Hollow yautja and brought him in front as a not-so-living shield. The spear skewered the yautja right in the heart in a fierce flash of power, punching through armour, flesh and bone, forcing Xel'khalos to dodge sharply as the spearhead came right for him. The flash of lightning briefly lit up the dark area, revealing more Hollows in the shadows.

The Hollow's head dropped as it finally died and its eyes lost their lambent glow.

"Phase Shields." Xel'khalos said in annoyance, callously tossing the now dead yautja aside.

Phase Disruptors and their Phase-Blade counterparts were the exact opposites of Phase Shields, from which both had been originally one. Whereas a shield protects, disruptors tear and destroy the very molecules from their target, leaving only dead matter in its wake. Unless a strong enough shield is used, there is no defence from a disruptor. Even the heaviest, most advanced armour is only delaying the inevitable as layer by layer is flayed from existence. There is however one silver lining. If a phase-blade hits a phase shield on just the right frequency, the blade will be cancelled out.

The origin of the Phase weaponry has since been lost to time, though rumour persists of an ancient race that once warred with the Ossians with similar tech. But no record or physical evidence of such a race rivalling the Ossians has ever been found. But regardless who created it, Phase weapons are forbidden by law to the highest degree.

"Where did you steal those artifacts!?" Gri'nyr demanded.

"Steal?" Xe'khalos questioned before anger took control. "This is what rightfully belongs to my clan! This is what will assert our dominance. To purge this galaxy of those not fit to survive."

He then gave a humourless chuckle.

"Too bad their former caretakers were too weak to use them, even to save their own hides." he said before focusing back on them pointing the pistol at each in turn. "And the first ones to be purged will be all of you."

Gri'nyr and his brothers had already taken up defensive positions around the Grey Lady. The spartans formed a shield wall with the rest of the dwarves and yautja behind them.

Xel'khalos aimed his pistol at each in turn before raising the pistol away from them.

"But, in an act of mercy, I will not use this on you." Xel'khalos decided. "I'll rather let my slaves fight for your heads."

At that point, from the shadows all around them came a vast hoard of Xel'khala yautja warriors, fur clad humans of eastern descent and other various alien life forms, some humanoid and some completely animal. All were slaves under Xel'khalos' whip. And there were definitely a lot of hollowed yautja among them. The number of baleful glowing eyes were starting to get beyond counting and much to Gri'nyr's shock, he recognised that these yautja were not from Xel'khala but from other clans.

Could they have been ones who had resisted Xel'khalos?

This could only conclude that they had indeed been here for a while, hiding in the darkness of the planet. Even when Gri;nyr and his clan were bleeding themselves against the primarch. Hiding in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to strike. When Gri'nyr and his clan were at their most bloodied and vulnerable.

"With you out of the picture, nothing and no one will stand in my way." Xel'khalos declared "The dominion of Xel'khala will finally be eternal!"

There was a long pause as Gri'nyr and his allies readied they weapons.

"Swarm them!" Xel'khalos commanded, his voice echoing throughout the entire hall.

That was the cue and as one, the horde charged forth from the darkness. Humans, yautja, bestial aliens and even the shambling hollows.

The three dwarves with railguns immediately aimed down the sights and fired high velocity shots in full automatic into the horde. The projectiles shot out faster then the blink of an eye, punching into the slaves in front, tearing right through them and into the slaves behind them. They were taking out maybe a dozen or so out before losing all that kinetic energy. The hollows continued to run even as they were being torn apart by the supersonic projectiles.

The dwarves' railguns may have been powerful, blasting chunks out of their targets but the numbers were just too much for them to slow down the horde streaming towards them. And there seemed to be no end to them.

"We need to regroup!" Gry'nyr said, grabbing the Grey Lady by the hip and hauling her off.

Kas'tigyr readied his fists as the first slaves, large reptilian humanoids jumped into range. Each of them received a fluid punch or kick right to their head, breaking necks and sending them flying back into the horde. The ones that did evade his swipes was dispatched by the spike of Tes'los's crows beak. And a few crashed into the spartan's shield wall, the spartan's bashing out with their shields before driving their spears into lizard-men's hearts.

"Grenade!" one of the dwarves with a railgun shouted.

There was a distinct cocking, much like a pulse rifle's own grenade launcher, coming from all the the railguns. And then the dwarves fired. The was a loud electrostatic crack, large projectiles bigger then what the railguns were firing before, shot out leaving a trail of flame as they ignited the air around them through sheer friction. They looked more akin to rockets then grenades.

And the explosions they made upon impact were more akin to high explosive rockets too. The rockets had enough kinetic force to punch right through several enslaved and then explode behind him. The resulting explosions were enough to completely shred nearly ten ranks of enslaved from the shock wave alone. The explosions also had the effect of causing the horde to back off either in fright or self-preservation. The hollows were not affect by the fireworks however, even though some had been torn apart by the blast. But, they were still coming for the group, even if they were missing half of their bodies.

But the explosives did their work. It gave the group a chance to escape.

"Pull back!" the dwarves shouted, turning and running.

Everyone made a break for the exit, reluctantly leaving the heads of Gri'nyr's sons behind. Xel'khalos wasn't even sympathetic to the losses that his forces have suffered. They, being slaves, meant absolutely nothing to him. He was more focused on Gri'nyr and his group.

"Run prey!" Xel'khalos jeered. "It doesn't matter. You'll never leave this planet alive!"

Gri'nyr heaved the Grey Lady up on his shoulder, keeping his scythe ready. His brothers took up his flanks. The rest of them formed a rearguard top protect them from the horde. They swiftly reached the tunnel, Kas'tigyr dispatching several more of the lizard-men who had jumped to them.

"Kill them!" Xel'khalos commanded. "Freedom to the one brings me that scythe!"

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr and his group ran down the tunnels, trying to outrun the horde that was chasing them. The dwarves with railguns were having their work cut out, having to fire and run at the same time. Stopping for a better shot meant getting overrun and most likely torn to shreds. Then again, in these tight quarters, it was impossible to miss. In fact, to save time, they just blindly fired over their shoulders. And the sound of bodies hitting the floor told them that their aim was good.<p>

Two yautja warriors stopped every now and again to deliver their own ranged attack. Pausing to turn around, each presented two sleek and articulated plasmacasters over their shoulders. Each charged up for a moment, drawing particles of light into the glowing interior of the chamber. Then they fired, not a traditional bolt, but a concentrated scorching beam of energy. The beams punched or sliced into anyone unfortunate to be in the way, forcing itself though their armour, flesh and bone, before bursting out and getting the next target.

The effect they inflicted on the horde was what they wanted, as each enslaved was preoccupied in avoiding the dancing beams, bringing the charge into a tumbling standstill. All except for the more bloodthirsty enslaved and the hollows for obvious reasons. The hollows just kept running even when they were being sliced to ribbons.

The warriors ceased the criss-crossing beams after a few seconds before rushing back to the rest of their fellows. The barrage gave them a bit of breathing room. Just long enough for them to get a good distance before the horde regained its momentum.

Gri'nyr and his brothers reached the end of the hall and the sight they saw was one that they just couldn't believe. There were hordes of Xel'khala warriors and their enslaved and hollowed subordinates engaging Gri'nyr's clan brothers, spartans and dwarves. It was just a chaotic symphony of clashing blades, rending flesh and yells of the dying.

Their allies were like islands in an ocean of the enemy.

"By our progenitor." Gri'nyr gasped.

The Grey Lady looked back to the tunnel and a snarl left her as she clenched her fists.

"Let me go!" she commanded, shoving at Gri'nyr. "I must vent my anger on these parasites!"

Gri'nyr instantly let go of her when he saw her eyes go aflame. She landed on her knees before she steeled herself as she got to her feet. Kas'tigyr and Tse'los backed off as she paced up to the tunnel as did everyone else.

Evidently, if the Grey Lady was in a mood, then it was wise to give her a wide berth.

"My Lady, you haven't recovered your power yet!" a warrior protested.

She shot him a look that was combined with a glowing aura around her clenched hands that caused him and the dwarves to back off. And this even made the spartans cautiously bring their shields up.

"I still have power for this." The Grey Lady declared, turning back towards the tunnel

She chanted and a blue aura surrounded her person. Her eyes flashed into a magnificent ocean blue and with a series of hand gestures, each drawing light and glowing symbols behind them, she cast what would definitely be described as a powerful spell.

The yautja warriors, who had just ran out of the tunnel, sharply dived to the sides when they saw the blue flames burning from her cupped hands.

With a long otherworldly yell, she fired a massive bolt of flaming light, lightning arcing from it from between her hands, illuminating the entire tunnel for what could be the entire length. The force of it caused everyone's robes and dreadlocks to blow out from the turbulence it caused. The bolt soared down the tunnel and whoever or whatever it hit was to simply put it, vaporised.

The bolt effortlessly wiped out a large chunk of the oncoming horde, disintegrating them into nothing. Those at the back were now frantically trying to run away, causing the horde to congest in the tunnel, each was trying to save their own skin. And when the roaring bolt reached them, they didn't have so much as skin to save.

The hollows, once again, were not even bothered as they burnt to dust.

When she stopped yelling, drawing heavy breaths, the whole tunnel was charred, smoking and raining ashen dust. She lowered her hands, which still had arcs of energy coursing between her fingers.

"That's for my students." she wheezed.

She fell hard to her knees, exhausted from the exertion of that spell. Gri'nyr rushed to her side as she panted hard and deeply. The wound on her side had opened up from the strain and was trickling blood.

"You have to conserve your strength." he warned, reaching out to her.

The Grey Lady however had no intention of doing so.

"Don't tell me how to use my power." She warned back, swatting his hand away.

"That's enough!" Gri'nyr scolded, dragging her up as gently but forcefully as he could. "This is no time for bickering!"

The Grey lady however was less then cooperative.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

Gri'nyr, having had enough of her attitude towards him after all these years, dropped the scythe as he clasped her by her masked head. The weapon clattered loudly as it hit the stone floor, it's ornamentation flashing as it impacted.

"That is enough!" Gri'nyr roared, his eyes flashing crimson and the decoration on his mask glowing.

The Grey Lady went suddenly silent from this show, her anger quickly subsiding as Gri'nyr's overshadowed hers. Evidently, like her, when Gri'nyr was in a mood, it was wise to stay clear. And it would seem that Gri'nyr in this state was even more terrifying then her. Added by the fact that he was the leader of the clan.

Everyone else backed off a step when they saw Gri'nyr in this state.

"This is getting tiresome!" he fumed. "Why can't you just accept it?!"

The Grey Lady didn't answer so Gri'nyr gave a more blunt question. A question which was most likely the source of her resentment.

"Did you really want my sons dead!?" Gri'nyr interrogated. "Is that what you wanted since they were born?! Because I chose their mother over you?! You felt cheated that it was she, not you, who bore my children?!"

Gri'nyr could tell from her semi-nervous squirming that the last question struck a nerve. Indeed, The Grey Lady had been considered to be a match for Gri'nyr. And Gri'nyr was aware of her feelings towards him. But, his heart belonged to his sons' mother. And that led to resentment towards him and his sons.

"DID you want them dead?" Gri'nyr repeated. "Answer me!"

Her answer came out as a whisper.

"...No." she answered.

Gri'nyr then calmed down at her answer. So much that his recent hostility faded away and he was back to his noble self.

"Do you want to let Xel'khalos get away with this?" he asked, keeping his emotions contained. "Do you want your students avenged? Then survive this day!"

He was soon interrupted by the electrostatic cracks from the dwarves' railguns. Gri'nyr's rant had attracted the hordes attention and were even now charging towards them. And the dwarves were trying to stem the tide but given the vast numbers arrayed before them, their weapons were not having much of an effect.

"We've got company!" Eitri shouted, pointing his hammer out to the battle.

A large rabble of enslaved and their yautja masters were now charging at them. Gri'nyr looked to the horde and then to the Grey Lady.

"Stay behind us.' he commanded, before turning to his brothers. "Brothers, defensive positions!"

He then handed the Grey Lady to the nearest warrior before readying the scythe. His brothers were ready and waiting. Kas'tigyr was cracking his knuckles and Tse'los flourished with his crows beak.

"Time to fight!" Kastigyr roared, charging into the fray. "Not one of you is gonna survive this!" he yelled at the rabble.

He jumped high into the air, twisting into what was essentially a swan dive before diving head first into oncoming horde. The impact caused a shock wave to erupt, throwing the horde back a few metres. Kas'tigyr was on them in the few seconds he had, his gauntlets and greaves glowing with power.

"Kas'tigyr!" Tse'los yelled in shock of his brother's impetuosity. "You fool!"

Tse'los charged into the fray with a sweeping swing of his crows beak, the hammer head crushing any foolish enough to be in it's path. He switched between using the hammer and blade, crushing limbs with one and impaling with the other. He would use the spike to impale a foe and then swing them off the hook like an impromptu sling to gain some room.

Gri'nyr looked to his warriors.

"Protect the Lady with your lives." Gri'nyr commanded. "And keep close!"

His warriors nodded and took up defensive positions around the Grey Lady as she was still supported by her bearer. The spartans likewise formed their shield wall and the dwarves took up positions in front of them.

"For the Progenitor!" Gri'nyr roared, drawing back a hand with glowing runes circling it.

He punched out his gestured fist, which bore a sign that resembled fire, and let loose a massive fiery blast of flame. The flames completely engulfed anyone caught in a manner mimicking sentience and the flames stuck to them, burning them with intense heat. The enslaved writhed in flesh charring pain, opening them up for a brutal entry from Gri'nyr. He slashed out with his scythe, slicing the burning enslaved into flaming ribbons, burning to ash as the dismembered corpses landed on the floor.

Gri'nyr and his brothers were carving a bloody path for the Grey Lady as Eitri and the others kept her within their protective circle. The few that managed to evade Gri'nyr and his brothers were dispatched either by spear, hammer or railgun.

Along the way through the chaos, tearing through any Xel'khala warriors and enslaved along the way, they managed to link up with others that they fought to get to, any dwarf, yautja or spratan who had not yet been brutally killed. They dragged the wounded into the centre of the circle with the Grey Lady while those still strong enough to fight contributed to the defence.

Gri'nyr and his brothers were tearing through the hordes swarming them left right and center. Gri'nyr sliced through anyone with his scythe, eviscerating them with fluid precision. Kas'tigyr was pummelling away with his fists and Tes'los was methodically swinging his crows beak, alternating between hammer and blade. And each were using their own signs to help ease the way and these signs always corresponded with a certain element, depending on how the sign was cast.

Fighting their way out to one of the main halls and emerging onto a large balcony, the group, now numbering thirty, saw a last stand in action.

The majority of the spartans, numbering two hundred were falling back from the onslaught that was happening. Forming an organised withdrawal, they had taken up position by a large tunnel, forming a crescent phalanx and stabbing anyone foolish enough to charge them. In the vast horde surrounding them were the few that couldn't make it to the phalanx. Several dwarves and yautja who fought on courageously before being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

The lead Spartan, in splendidly ornate armour, was at the forefront of the phalanx, cutting down any enslaved that reached him.

Gri'nyr rushed to the edge as the rest of the group fought their way onwards.

"Dionekes!" Gri'nyr called out.

The spartans had no way of reaching them through the vast horde that was surrounding them. They were cut off and surrounded. Dioneekes looked up to Gri'nyr and waved his spear to acknowledge that he had seen Gri'nyr.

"Gri'nyr!" Dionekes called out. "We'll hold this area to the last spartan, lure as many of the bastards to us as we can to clear your path!"

Dionekes held his spear up in a show of farewell.

"We'll meet again in Elysium!" he shouted.

Gri'nyr watched as Dionekes raced off to rejoin the Phalanx. He knew that this was the spartan way. Spartans never retreated and never surrendered.

"Gri'nyr, come on!" Eitri called out, crushing a hollows skull with his hammer.

Gri'nyr reluctantly raced off to rejoin the others as they continued further up the temple.

* * *

><p>The spartans were now forced back by the sheer numbers being arrayed against them. They had taken up position in a narrow corridor, standing ten abreast and the front two ranks had their spears slightly forward.<p>

Xel'khalos was walking throughout the carnage, dispatching the odd yautja or dwarf straggler with a disruptor bolt to the back. He was surround by a literal shield of bodyguards and the bodyguards were in turn protected by a wall of hollows. In this way, Xel'khalos was completely protected from anything that could harm him.

"That's it!" he yelled out, revelling in the massacre "Slaughter them!"

He watched as one of Gri'nyr's warriors was forced onto the floor by several large hollows, restraining his weapons with their own dead bodies, and then a whole mob of lizard-men dove into him with claws out. The yautja was brutally disembowelled by claw and teeth before he gave out one last yell of defiance. That was when his whole body flashed into a bright fiery light and then the lizard-men engulfing him and those nearby were blasted back in a fiery conflagration.

Xel'khalos nimbly dodged one flaming enslaved as it crashed into the floor next to him, moving feebly. He then looked back to the yautja and saw only a dead smoking but not charred corpse. And many dead enslaved surrounding him.

"That was mildly impressive." he remarked before he callously crushed the enslaved's throat with his foot. "Burnt himself out."

Xel'khalos looked around in the carnage, trying to locate Gri'nyr and his group. He could not see them in the carnage, what with yells, blood and flying body parts all over the place. He had sent out scouts to try and track them. He wanted to be there to deal with Gri'nyr himself.

At that point, one scouts came running up, pushing his way through the hollows, who simply recoiled jerkily and shuffled along regardless. He came up to Xel'khalos and knelt before him.

"Where have they gone?" he demanded.

"They are fighting their way to an exit, my lord." the scout reported. "But we have a development."

Xel'khalos cocked his head.

"Development?"

"The majority of those spartan oomans are making a last stand." the tracker explained, pointing in the relevant direction.

The fighting at that point died down as the last piece of resistance was crushed. Now the phalanx were truly on their own.

"A last stand?" Xel'khalos said, cupping his chin. "Now this I have to see. Show me."

The scout rose to his feet and moved briskly in the direction of the phalanx, leading his lord and his guards.

Xel'khalos grinned when he saw the last stand of the spartans. He then moved on so that he could get a better view from high up on a large flight of stairs. His circle of guards and hollows keeping their formation, only breaking up as Xel'khalos reached the steps before reforming into a solid line at the base.

"The prey are backed into a corner, my lord." one of Xel'khalos' officers on the stairs observed. "What are your orders?"

Xel'khalos stepped past him before he sat himself down on a spot that had been prepared for him. As evidenced by the absurd amount of cushions and other pleasantries that were tended by slaves. He kept the Stone close to him as he made himself comfortable.

He looked down to the officer.

"Offer them servitude in exchange for their lives." Xel'khalos ordered, getting comfortable on the steps. "And if they won't listen, feel free to let the flood tear them apart."

The officer nodded and proceeded to the front lines.

"I'm hoping they put on a good show." Xel'khalos sighed, cradling the stone on his lap "I love watching futile last stands."

Xel'khalos looked at the spartans who were now, much to his puzzlement, doing exercises and practising combat techniques, even though they were completely surrounded. Some of them were even calmly talking about the coming fight and making bets on who will get the most kills. And a few had even taken off their helmets and were combing their long shoulder length hair.

Xel'khalos cocked his head at this sight.

"What are they doing?" he asked one of his bodyguards

"No idea, my lord" the bodyguard replied, shaking his head. "Maybe some ineffective way to intimidate us."

"Maybe they making themselves presentable before they die." Xel'khalos mused. "Oh well, means more to deface."

The officer had by now push his way to the front of the horde. He stood there in front of the horde, making a show of strength. The horde had stopped roughly two hundred feet from the phalanx, and in all that clear space was the bodies of those who had attacked the spartans and failed. Most were enslaved and there was also the occasional Xel'khala warrior. There were no spartan corpses in the field however.

"Spartans!" he yelled out. "Throw down your weapons and submit to our Lord!"

There was silence as the Spartan's calmly got back into formation, readying their weapons and armor and firmly held their ground. They would not break the phalanx for anything. The yautja was now starting to lose his patience at this show of indifference.

"I said, throw down your weapons and submit!" he demanded. "This is your first and last warning!"

That when his eye caught something. Something was shining in the darkness from the phalanx's rear ranks. And it was getting closer. But no sooner was he wondering what it was; his life came to an end. And it came from a flying spear, crackling with power to his face. The weapon punched right through his face with no resistance, all ten feet of it bursting out from the back of his head in a shower of sparks and punching into the yautja behind him. The faceless corpse fell forward into the stone floor with a loud clattering thud. The impaled yautja grunted as he fell to his knees and then died on the stone floor.

The spartan who threw it readied his spare spear.

Xel'khalos was flabbergasted that a human had such good aim from that distance.

"Traitors!" Dionekes roared. "Come and get them!"

The spartans banged their shields in unison, making what sounded like a storm erupt from their ranks, before bracing their shields and spears forward. The sound of a storm erupting from their ranks was enough for some of the enslaved, the more cowardly among them, to panic and try to run. They were swiftly brought back into line with a few brutal beatings.

All the exercising and weapon practice was just the spartans psyching themselves to fight to the death.

The next yautja in command of that horde stepped forward, stepping over the faceless corpse of his superior, to gave the order to charge with an loud roar. The horde of enslaved, hollows and their yautja masters charged forth. The horde thundered towards the phalanx in a deafening clamour of many feet impacting stone. It was enough for Xel'khalos to get back in the zone from that unexpected show of marksmanship.

"It's a shame I didn't bring a meal for this entertainment." Xel'khalos lamented. "Oh well, this is going to be fun to watch."

The spartans were holding their shields up, covering them from their knees to just below their eyes, and bracing themselves for the impact. And the horde was thundering ever nearer towards them. This was the moment where unity and discipline was key, for if anyone lost their resolve and tried to flee, the phalanx would be broken.

But spartans never run from a fight.

"Hold!" Dionekes commanded as the horde was now only ten feet from them. "As one!"

The spartans linked shields just as the horde was on top of them.

The horde crashed into the ready phalanx with an almighty clamour of bodies against shield. The spartans weathered the initial impact as more and more of the horde crashed into the phalanx as the spartans struggled to hold the line. They were shuffling backwards as the weight was starting to build as the spartans at the back began the push. But even as the line was bending, they were not breaking.

The horde bashed against the spartan shields with their myriad of weapons or bare hands or claws, trying to find a gap to exploit. The spartans held their formation against the barrage, weathering the blows as they braced themselves. The spartans in the middle ranks would jab their spears out, catching an unwary enslaved right in the chest or head. But as soon as one enslaved was dispatched, another was there instantly to take their place.

"Hold!" Dionekes commanded.

The Spartans put their backs into it as more and more of the horde was crashing upon them. It was getting to the point where the enslaved started tripping over each other as they added their weight to the push.

"Push!" Dionekes commanded.

At that point, the horde groaned and swelled to a standstill as the spartans pushed against them. There was an ominous pause and then the fight began.

The spartans gave an almighty resonating shove with their shields as one pushing the horde back and giving them space. The Xel'khala warriors and their enslaved tumbled backwards, some falling right over while others saw that the spartans were open and they charged back at them, hoping to kill them. But all they got was a spear right to the heart or some other vital area as the spartans thrust their spears out, the groin and throat being particular targets. In some places the spears punched through multiple foes at once.

The spartans were now in control of the situation. They would lunge out with their spears before swiftly reforming the shield wall as the horde charged back at them. They would then push back with their shields, throwing the enslaved back and then attack as before. And much to the spartans' surprise and amusement, the horde just kept repeating their mistake.

Within minutes, the amount of dead and dying on the ground were causing the attackers to lose their footing and momentum. They would stumble and fall over, only to be finished off with a stab to the back or chest from the spartans' spears.

The spartans chose this moment for their counter attack.

"Forward!" Dionekes commanded.

The phalanx pushed forward as one, bulldozing anyone foolish enough to be in the way. Shoving with their shields and stabbing with their spears, they pushed forward. The spartans in the rear ranks used their dorys' butt spikes to finish off any stragglers without even breaking their stride. The spartans nimbly navigated the ever growing carpet of dead bodies as they advanced their bloody assault.

The Xel'khala warriors now realised too late why the spartans had chosen this position. It was to rob the Xel'khala of their one advantage: superior numbers. And there was nothing they could do about it as the rear ranks kept pushing them on right into the spartans' spears. The spartans, trained since childhood for this kind of fighting, was in their element.

Yautja and their enslaved were dropping like the proverbial flies, while only the occasional spartan suffered any major scratches.

The spartans had now pushed out of the corridor and had formed into a crescent formation, twenty spartans wide, allowing them to unleashed the full might of the phalanx on the disorganised horde. And right behind them was a thick carpet of dead bodies, numbering in the hundreds.

In desperation, the horde started grabbing at the spears, trying to deprive the Spartans of their brutally efficient weapons. But they were in for a nasty surprise. The Spartans unexpectedly ditched their spears, throwing them at the yautja and scoring many kills in the sudden volley. They then drew their secondary and even more deadly close range weapon, the kopis, and the real butchery began in earnest.

The hordes charged forth again as the sudden spear barrage had cleared up a lot of space. The spartans however were ready for them. They braced their shields and as each foe got in striking range, they bucked their shields up, hurling their unsuspecting opponents up and over them for the spartan behind to finish them off. And the spartans were stuck into the horde before the enslaved could even react to this unexpected counter charge.

Limbs were flying and blood of many shades and colours was spurting in arcs as the curved blades sliced through armour, flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. The spartans cut down their foes with practised precision and skill, honed through years of harsh and almost fatal training. The hollows were the only ones who weren't affected by the loss of limbs. They continued to swarm the spartans, even as their living comrades desperately tried to fall back in a desperate rout.

The shields that the spartans wielded were used not only as a means of defence but also as highly effective bludgeons. When they bashed with their shields, their opponent was sent crashing backwards like they had just been hit by a truck. And getting hit by the shield's rim was resulting in broken bones and crushed limbs. In fact, when one hollow was shoved to the floor and a shield rim was brought down to his neck, the force was enough to decapitate it with a loud crunch.

The enslaved had no chance of resistance against the spartans. And the yautja weren't faring much better. They were simply not prepared for the kind of fighting that the spartans excelled in. And that was fighting as one cohesive unit. Yautja tactics were based around a loose hunting warband and simply put, they did not have the discipline to stand against a highly trained formation. Especially against ones who have been bred, raised and trained for war.

Dionekes finished off the last yautja with a fierce chop to the shoulder, enough to completely the entire arm and part of the upper torso off in a shower of bright green. The spartans wasted no time in reclaiming their spears from the dead, rejoining their leader and reforming the phalanx back into the tunnel, idly spearing any enslaved they have missed.

"What a bunch of pushovers!" Dionekes shouted out, gaining laughs from his men. "Even our women could beat them with hands behind their backs!"

"We should've brought them along!" a spartan added. "Would've saved us the trouble!"

Xel'khalos' smugness was wiped from his face at this sight.

These spartans had mercilessly wiped out a vastly larger force than their own and had only suffered very light damage. In truth, he had not expected humans to survive such odds. But then again, he had severely underestimated the unique unpredictability of humans.

Xel'khalos at that point heard the spartans shouting back at them. They were shouting various insults among other things, joking about how Xel'khalos has plenty of men but not a single competent warrior among them. Another thing they joked was that slaughtering all of those enslaved has left them with nasty cramps so they can't kneel before him like he wanted.

Xel'khalos inwardly fumed at this blow to his pride.

If he just sent in another horde, even one bigger then the last, the spartans would just as easily tear that one up as well. And the longer that they kept him occupied, the more chance of Gri'nyr and his clan escaping. And that was not acceptable if his grand design was to be realised.

Xel'khalos stood up sharply, knocking various cushions down the steps and growling loudly.

One of his bodyguards noted the current state of his lords' mind.

"My lord?" he asked, hesitantly.

Xel'khalos cracked his knuckles.

"They may have survived the flood." he snarled before lifting up the stone, making it pulsate with energy as he did so. "But none will leave this day." He vowed.

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr and co had now been able to gather up with a sizable force of dwarves, spartan stragglers and yautja clan-brothers. And now they were able to put up an organised withdrawal. Gri'nyr led the charge along with his brothers. Their yautja warriors were engaging any that had gotten past them. Eitri was coordinating his fellow dwarves into fire-teams and the spartans into a defensive line, sheltering the Grey and the wounded within their protective circle.<p>

There were roughly a hundred of them now. A cosmopolitan mix of yautja, human and dwarf.

They had fought their way through the many hordes that were infesting the temple, gathering any survivors that they could reach. And they lost just as many to a new threat the further they got to the outer regions of the temple. The Xel'khala forces had brought along war beasts. And many of them bore semblance to legends from human mythology.

And they came across some more as they entered a large hall.

Blocking their way was a large rabble of hulking humanoids in crude fur-lined metal armour. They were ten feet tall, extremely broad, large limbed with big jawed bulbous heads with a pair of beady eyes that reeked with dumb brutality.

Ogres.

Gri'nyr and his brothers could only wonder if they had been cowed into servitude or if they serve willingly. Ogres were known for their unquestioning obedience if you gain their trust or established your dominance. As such, they were particular favourites for Xel'khala. The Ogres were equipped with a menagerie of various blunt instruments. Clubs, maces and even the odd flail were either in their grubby hands or stuffed into belts. Their weapons represented their mindset. Crude and direct.

"This is going to be fun!" Kas'tigyr shouted, cracking his fists.

"They intend to keep us boxed in." Tse'los postulated, reading his crows beak.

"Keep moving!" Gri'nyr commanded. "Don't give them time to think!"

Gry'nyr and his brothers charged at the ogres, who bellowed a loud war cry and stomped towards them. As they came within jumping distance, the brothers leaped at the ogres, their armour and weapons glowing. Each drove their their weapons right into an ogre's face each. Gri'nyr's scythe punched though between the eyes, clearly bisecting it in two. Kas'tigyr delivered a punishing kick that caved in his ogre's face. And Tse'los' crows beak punched into the side of the ogres' head and Tse'los then threw it over his shoulder as he landed, the blade slicing out of it's head and trailing some of it's brain with it.

Each of the brothers landed on their feet as their foes hit the ground dead. The others ogres just realised that they had taken casualties and they quickly turned and charged again to engage the three warriors.

Gri'nyr fluidly swung the scythe around him, creating a blade storm that sliced through any ogre dumb enough not to back off. He would evade the clumsy attacks and then counter-attack with a precise slash that often resulted in the loss of a limb or a head.

Kas'tigyr caught the ogres club in his hands with a loud thump as it connected. A brief wrestling struggle erupted before Kas'tigyr twisted the club out of the ogre's grasp. He swiftly jumped up gave the ogre a fierce kick to it's face, making it stumble to the side from the impact. It then reared itself, only for it to be smashed in the face with it's own club. The bones in it's face cracked as it was smashed into the floor and it looked up just at Kas'tigyr brought the club down with all of his strength. Suffice to say, the orge's thick skull exploded with a watermelon as it's club made contact.

Kas'tigyr followed up by throwing the gory and brain encrusted club right at another ogre that was about to strike at Gri'nyr from behind. The club impacted the ogre's head and, much to Kas'tigyr's amusement, it bounced up into the air while at the same time knocking the ogre over and then said club landed on it's head with a loud crack. Gri'nyr heard the impact, turned and saw the ogre half-conscious on the floor. As it tried to get back up, Kas'tigyr jumped in and snapped it's neck with a well placed stomp.

But they didn't have any time for praise as more ogres charged at them.

Tse'los drove his crow's beak into the back of the ogre he was fighting, driving the blade right into it's heart and driving it into the ground. He looked up when he heard a roar and no sooner he did that a huge club impacted him right in the chest. He was sent flying backwards, his crow's beak still lodged in the dead ogre's back and landing deftly on his feet, skidding to a halt.

Looking back, he saw two more ogres stomping towards him, brandishing huge clubs made out of scrap metal bolted together. Tse'los drew his warpicks and flourished them before he charged towards them.

He threw his warpicks at each ogre. As he did, very fine chains connecting to their pommels retracted out from Tse'los's gauntlets. And, much to the ogre's surprise, the chains were glowing with arcing energy. It made it seem as if Tse'los was harnessing lightning from his hands.

The warpicks punched through their crude armour, digging into their chests. Tse'los pulled on the chains and he flew through the air, zipping past the two ogres who barely had time to even look, landing on his feet and pulled the chains. The ogres were wrenched from their feet, twisting through the air as the warpicks pulled and then sliced their way out of their chests. The warpicks took out their armour and even some of their ribcage out with them. The ogres crashed into the stone floor, writhing in agony as the contents of their chests spilled out into steaming piles.

Tse'los flourished as his warpicks landed flawlessly in his hands. As more ogres charged at him, that was when the dance began. Tse'los lashed out with his warpicks, lashing out with them in electrified sweeps. He also fluidly moved, evading the ogres' clumsy sweeps. This style was far different then what he used with his crows beak. It emphasised on speed and defence rather then power and offence. The warpicks sliced through armour and flesh like a butcher slicing a fat sausage in a deli.

The ogres were cut down in the storm that Tse'los created. In fact, Gri'nyr and his brothers had eliminated that living barricade in swift time. But there was soon another problem.

A loud bellowing roar was heard coming from the behind them. Yells were heard coming from the protective circle. And that meant something had broken through.

In a rather ironic manner, the spartans were engaging a large cyclops, twenty feet tall, stocky and with one massive bloodshot eye eyeing them, that had broken the circle. The Grey Lady and some of the wounded had been swiftly led to safety by Eitri and the dwarves as the Spartans were engaging with the iconic creature.

The yautja warriors were busy engaging a pack of manticores that had pounced on them from above up as well. Manticores are creatures from Grecian myth that look like a giant lion with bat's wings and a scorpion's tail. The manticores were giving the warriors a hard time but were under control.

And the dwarves were now busy trying to fend off a flock of wyverns, winged draconic serpents, that was literally raining fire on them and their Xel'khala riders shooting disruptors bolts at them. The dwarves were carefully aiming with their myriad gauss weaponry, projectiles ripping through the air in an like an anti-air ordinance battery. At times their fire power caught the wyvern riders, tearing them or their mounts or both into bloody clouds.

Fortunately, the dwarves' shields, thanks to their superior make were just strong enough to protect them from the disruptors.

Gri'nyr and his brothers rushed to their clan-brothers, pouncing right onto the manticores.

The spartans were keeping the cyclops back with their spears as it roared and lashed out at them, jabbing it as soon as they got a clear shot.. A vicious swipe caught a few spartans, sending them flying as they caught the blow with their shields with flashed blue as the phase-shields countered the kinetic impact. A spartan lunged with his spear, skewering the cyclop's arm. It roared in anger as it gave a fierce backhand at the spartans again, causing them to scatter in evasion but some were struck and sent flying into pillars or walls. It managed to grab one spartan before throwing him at his comrades, sliding off their upheld shields and crashing to the floor.

Gri'nyr and his fellow yautja were hard put fighting this pack of manticores, who for some unholy reason were not as easy to kill as the rest of the species.

"I don't remember manticores being this tough!" Kas'tigyr shouted, trying to pull a manticore by it's scorpion tail.

"Look at them!" Tse'los pointed. "They've been butchered into mindless killers!"

It was true. Upon closer examination, the manticores had indeed been reformed into hulking, part cybernetic, part grotesque mockeries of their former species. It would seem that slaves were not the only depraved thing that Xel'khala indulges in. They also like to play god, creating horrific abominations to instil terror in their enemies.

And in the case of the manticores, they had been implanted with cybernetics as a form of control and in a twisted sense, longevity, as the cybernetics would drive the body on, even when it is dead. What this resulted in was a creature that was excessively more hard to kill then their normal counterparts.

"Where is your bloody pet!" Kas'tigyr shouted to Gri'nyr, the tail he was yanking finally giving out and snapping off with a loud crunch.

The manticore roared in pain and rage as it focused on Kas'tigyr and pounced at him. Kas'tigyr drove the scorpion sting right into it's open maw, punching through the roof of it's mouth and puncturing it's brain. The barb of the sting punched out the top of it's skull as it crashed into the floor stone dead.

At that point a flash of light rocketed down from the darkness above, smiting the cyclops dead centre in the back. A massive fiery flash of energy erupted from the cyclops as the light erupted out of it's chest with a loud avian call. The spartans held their shields up as the cyclops fell apart as the flames consumed it, dispersing into ashen dust all around them.

The light then charged right into a manticore that had even now pounced in front of Gri'nyr, intending to chomp on him with it's razor maw. The light punched through it as it reached the high arc of it's jump, bursting out of it like it had been it by heavy ordinance. The manticore disintegrated just as the cyclops had done.

Gri'nyr watched as the light now assumed the shape of a bird and as the light rested on his shoulder it fully revealed itself to be a magnificent shining silver hawk.

"There you are." Gri'nyr said. "Nice takedown, my friend."

Another manticore reared up behind him, roaring loudly and Gri'nyr flourished with the scythe in a fluid diagonal arc. The manticore froze as if in shock and then it fell apart in to cleanly sliced halves.

"That's all of them!" Kas'tigyr shouted, snapping the last manticore's neck with a loud crack.

But the cost from that bestial counter-attack was high.

Many of the spartans were badly injured from the cyclops attack. And some of them had been killed from taking the full force of the blows. Their broken bodies littered the ground as the survivors heaved themselves to their feet. Those still standing were occupied in aiding their wounded.

Gri'nyr's warriors, had made good work on the manticores. But not before taking a battering themselves. Regrettably, a couple of them had ended up in the manticores' maws, their last actions being to rip the manticores apart from the inside. One however managed to tear his way out, at the cost of one of his arms.

The dwarves had taken the odd casualty from where a disruptor bolt got through a gap or finally punch through their shields. And for those who survived, their shields were now useless pieces of scrap from the amount of damage they had taken.

A testament to the craftsmanship of the dwarves.

But the Grey lady and most of the wounded were safe.

"Please don't let there be anything else." Gri'nyr sighed as he saw the dead all around.

Kas'tigyr walked up, looking at the hawk with pent up frustration behind his mask. Tse'los was close behind but with a posture that spoke relief.

"So, where was your bird hiding all this time?" he demanded.

"Not hiding. Observing." Gri'nyr corrected "He had been keeping an eye on us, leading the way." he then gestured to all the dead warbeasts. "Unfortunately, this was the least dangerous route."

"You knew all along?" Kas'tigyr questioned, pointing to all the dead manticores and such.

Gri'nyr didn't answer looked to the hawk on his shoulder.

"Did you find the way?" he asked the hawk.

It nodded before it jumped of Gri'nyr's shoulders and flew off. Gri'nyr was quick to rally everyone, including his temperamental brother, and in short time they were on their way.

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr and his group had now managed to find their way to an exit. One of many secret tunnels built into the temple. Ones that can only be opened by one of their blood.<p>

It was a massive set of stone doors at the top of a massive flight of steps, the steps were about ten feet wide and the steps were traversing over a massive chasm that stretched far down into the deeper recesses of the temple.

But blocking their way was another massive horde of hollows and Xel'khala warriors. And the warriors were all armed with phase blades of various kinds.

How many hordes did Xel'khalos manage to bring for this genocidal conquest? How could he have hidden so many troops?

The group halted just before the end of the corridor when they heard the uproar of the horde, keeping out of sight. Eitri shuffled his way up to evaluate the size of the horde, relaying on his smaller size to stay hidden. He took a quick look, his eyes going wide when he saw what the some of the horde was armed with. as soon as he got a good view of the horde before he retreated back before anyone saw him.

"The Bastard brought several whole fucking worlds with him!" Eitri exclaimed in surprise. "And they armed to the teeth with phase weapons."

Tse'los moved up to see for himself and did a quick head count of the horde before coming back. Doing a head count of their group, he shook his head.

"We cannot fight through a horde that size and hope to come out unscathed." he told everyone. "And we'll most likely lose most of us in the attempt."

The Grey lady looked at the horde and growled.

"I still have unfinished business with this scum." she snarled raising a hand and creating arcs of power.

Gri'nyr was quick to grasp her hand to restrain her. The electrifying arcs danced along his hand, countered by some of his own as his gauntlet glowed.

"Don't even think about it." Gri'nyr warned firmly, restraining her hand.

Some of the dwarves came walking up, holding up their assorted gauss weaponry, assault rifles, heavy support weapons and even a long rifle. They gauged the size of the horde and looked at their weapons. They judged that even with these they wouldn't make a dent in that horde.

"They got more bodies then we got munitions." a dwarf gunner said. "And we're out of grenades."

"If only we had some cannons. Something explosive." Eitri wished.

That was when Kas'tigyr perked up. Like he had just had a revelation from what Eitri said. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, getting the attention of his brothers.

"I have an idea." he revealed, crouching as his greaves glowed. "I'll have to get stuck right in them though."

His brothers noticed that all of his armour was now glowing. Charging up for a fight.

"What are you doing?" Gri'nyr questioned.

"Clearing the way." Kas'tigyr answered before breaking into a sprint. "Don't follow me!"

"Kas'tigyr!" Tse'los yelled.

Kas'tigyr jumped high into the air faster then his brothers could stop him. His gauntlets glowed as he raised his arms. And with a sharp singing of energy, curved energy blades projected from the gauntlets near his elbows, curving backwards, humming and trailing light through the air as he now dived into the horde.

Kas'tigyr impacted the horde in a flash of power, blowing back dozens of hollows and Xel'khala warriors. And he was immediately on the offensive, punching and kicking his way in a swirling motion like a hurricane towards the door. The energy blades that had projected from his gauntlets effortlessly sliced through anything in their way. He had to inflict as much damage as he could before the horde realised what was going on.

Kas'tigyr dodged the attacks that were coming, even more so considering that it was phase-blades that were coming at him. He evaded their attacks and would then respond with a crippling blow.

"That's it!" Kas'tigyr yelled out, evading a phase-blade and countering with a punishing kick to it's weilder. "Come and get me!"

Gesturing his fingers, he pushed his hands to the sides and massive concussive waves pulsed out, sending whole scores of Xel'khala warriors and hollows flying. Those closest were pulverised into pulped bags of flesh by the impact. Exploiting the space he had just created, Kas'tigyr initiated a flying drop kick into the horde before lashing out with his other leg, smiting several hollows and snapping their necks.

But even with his own formidable skills, there was only so much that even Kas'tigyr could handle. And the attacks were getting even more numerous and more restrictive as the horde concentrated wholly on him. The hollows, following some signal that their dead minds received, swarmed over Kas'tigyr. They were not focusing on killing him but restraining him. They piled onto him, grabbing onto his arms and legs, trying to drag him down.

And they were coming faster then he could cut them down.

His brothers could only watch with horror as the horde now enveloped him.

Kas'tigyr was now covered with dozens of hollows who were bogging him down, robbing him of being able to manoeuvre fast enough. And as soon as he was finally forced to his knees, the Xel'khala warriors piled onto him, ready to butcher him.

"Shit!" Kas'tigyr shouted just before the first blade stabbed him.

Kas'tigyr grunted in suppressed pain as he felt blade after blade stab into him. His plan to simply butcher a path for his brothers failed but he had a back up idea if it did. Only he didn't count on being bogged down so soon. But for his secondary tactic to work, he had to get as much of the horde as he could.

Just a little more! He thought, waiting to get as many of the horde on top of him as he could.

As soon as he knew that the whole horde was focused on him, he made his move.

Kas'tigyr's armour flashed and he gave out a loud roar. A large explosive flash of fiery arcing energy exploded from Kas'tigyr as he reared up, his dreadlocks shipping his back. Every single hollow and Xel'khala warrior on him and surrounding him, in fact the entire horde, was propelled high into the air and away from him in flaming electrified arcs like a living shockwave. A thundering reign of smoking bodies was heard as each hit connected the floor, walls or pillars in pulverising angles. The ones who were directly on top of Kas'tigyr had somehow managed to get adhered to the high ceiling.

Kas'tigyr got back up to his feet, bleeding from all the damage the phase-blades had done. He had been run through in multiple places, mostly in his chest. By some miracle, the Xel'khala warriors had missed his heart.

He looked around and saw much to his relief that he had indeed taken out the entire horde. The only survivors, if you could call them that, were feebly twitching their broken and fried forms. He casually dusted his hands, oblivious to the fact that they were covered in blood.

"The way is clear." he called out proudly before he fell to his knees.

Tse'los immediately ran to his brother, skidding to his knees. He quickly grabbed Kas'tigyr before he could fall to the floor. Gri'nyr wasn't that far behind him, the hawk clutching his cloaked shoulder tightly. The rest of the group came up after them, the able fighters busy finishing off those who had survived Kas'tigyr's explosive surprise.

Gri'nyr and Tse'los saw that Kastigyr was very badly wounded and not just physically. He seemed...drained. Burnt out.

"Are you insane?!" Tsel'los scolded, heaving his brother onto his shoulder. "You were nearly killed!"

"At least I cleared the way, didn't I?" Kas'tigyr said, gesturing to all the dead bodies. "You are so unappreciative!"

Gri'nyr stood over them.

"You know full well the dangers of tapping into that power." he cautioned seriously. "Burn it all and the body dies."

"You are just as bad." Kas'tigyr added, waving his hand dismissively as Tse'los got him to his feet.

Gri'nyr looked to the hawk on his shoulder.

"Sweep the area." he ordered. "Alert us to anything you find coming our way."

The hawk nodded and jumped off his shoulder before swooping up and out of sight.

The reminder of the group ran up to the stairs, carrying their wounded comrades. Gri'nyr stayed at the bottom to ensure that no one was left behind, pushing each yautja, dwarf and spartan upwards. The Grey lady however shook off his hand.

Out of all those they had found in their escape, this is who would be leaving the temple. Fifteen yautja, Gri'nyr, his brothers and the Grey Lady included. Eitri and twenty of his fellow dwarves. And last were just thirteen spartans who could walk unaided, helping their more injured brothers, numbering twelve along. And only a third of the group would be counted as battle ready.

Eitri was the last to go up and he was a sight. His armour was all dented, scratched and covered in blood, most of it from enslaved. His helmet's visor had suffered a near miss from a disruptor bolt and a gaping gash was blasted diagonally across Eitri's face. His hammer was gore-soaked and had its of bone sticking to it, no doubt from many crushed skull. But among all things, he had his pipe in his mouth for a much needed puff, sticking out of the gap in his visor.

"Is this everyone?" Gri'nyr asked as Gri'nyr lit his pipe. "Is there no one else?"

Eitr shrugged and gestured back to the temple. And to the dead littering the area.

"Anyone who's not with us is not coming at all." he solemly answered, walking up the steps.

The dwarf puffed on his pipe, leaving a trail of smoke behind as he trudged up the steps. Gri'nyr sighed as he hefted the scythe onto his shoulder.

"Then I hope they died fighting." Gri'nyr prayed as he started to walk up the steps. "I hope we don't lose anyone else at this point."

What Gri'nyr didn't know was that a Xel'khala sniper was overlooking the exit and had been aiming a disruptor rifle at his head, waiting for the opportune moment to fire. As soon as Grinyr was on the steps, back turned and away from the rest of the group, the sniper fired.

Gri'nyr turned when he heard the faint screaming of the disruptor and, above all, a call of warning from the hawk. And sooner did he turn and catch eyes one the unstable green projectile, that fate would intervene. And that intervention would come at a price as the hawk soared in front of Gri'nyr, shielding him from death. The green bolt impacted the hawk with a loud flash, the bolt however did not punch through the hawk. It had caught the full force of it. The hawk gave out a long and pained call as the impact sent it careening down into the abyss below the temple.

Gri'nyr almost dropped the scythe from surprised and mortifying shock.

'AEGIS!" Gri'nyr shouted as he watched his faithful pet tumble into the darkness.

The shining hawk was quickly swallowed by the darkness of the lower levels.

Gri'nyr looked up and he caught sight of the sniper with the smoking disruptor rifle. The sniper, now realising he had failed his shot and had been spotted, tried to recalibrate his rifle as quickly as he could. Gri'nyr however readied one of his plasmacasters and was now aiming retribution at the sniper. The plasmacaster charged up, drawing in energy as it glowed. The sniper had now managed to calibrate his rifle and was feverishly aiming down the scope and firing another bolt.

That was when Gri'nyr fired.

The plasmacaster fired an unimaginably bright beam of blue energy at the sniper, lightning arcing around it. The sniper barely had time to react as the beam neutralised the disruptor bolt in a turquoise flash, tore through the rifles scope and then impacted his head. The onslaught of energy blasted his head out of existence, armour, flesh and bone reduced to nothing. The headless corpse flopped to the ground, steam wafting out of the seared hole where his head used to be.

Gri'nyr's plasmacaster retracted and he raced to rejoined the others, satisfied that he had avenged his faithful pet.

"This way!" Tse'los shouted, heaving his brother along to the doors.

He looked around on the doors for a moment before he found a hand imprint. He placed his hand into the imprint and it glowed blue around his hand. The light then spread throughout the stonework like a running river. When the whole door was illuminated, it slowly opened to the sides. The outside world revealed itself through the widening gap, one of a vast empty mist filled cavern.

The group quickly rushed through the gap

Gri'nyr paused at the exit. He then thought back at the battle in his mind. He could see his fellow yautja being overpowered by the sheer number against them. He saw them being dragged down and them brutally hacked apart by the horde. He could see the dwarves being dispatched with ferocity befitting from a xenophobic commander. And the few spartans who were not with the Dionekes or with Gri'nyr were being shot from a range in the backs with disruptor weaponry.

Ranged attacks were seen as cowardly by spartans, though thrown weapons were seen as an exception since the thrower had to be close to the enemy to use them.

But most of all, he could still see the heads of his sons in his mind.

"Gri'nyr, come on!" Tse'los shouted, still clutching his wounded brother to his side.

Gri'nyr, unbeknownst to everyone, already made his choice and it was not what they were expecting.

Gri'nyr knelt to the floor and placed the scythe on the ground before reaching to his axes. He drew them, bundled them together and then handed them to Eitri.

Eitri was puzzled from this action.

"Gri'nyr?" he asked.

"Take them." Gri'nyr told the dwarf. "Keep them safe."

Eitri took the bundle as Gri'nyr stood back up, reaching for the scythe and hefting it up in a battle-ready stance.

"Everyone, get out of here." He commanded.

"Gri'nyr, what ware you doing?!" Tse'los demanded.

"It's obvious." Kas'tigyr strained, keeping his dreadlocks from slipping.

Gri'nyr nodded as his brother knew what his intention was.

"I'm not leaving." Gri'nyr declared, gripping the scythe. "I am not going to let Xel'khalos get away with this. Not him of all people."

"But he has the Stone!" Tse'los reminded. "Do you know what he'll do to you?!"

Gri'nyr looked to his free hand and as he concentrated, blue flames of energy circulated around his hand.

"It's no worse then what I got in store for him" he stated, raising his hand for everyone to see. "When I have made the Mark on him, you will understand what needs to be done."

Tse'los looked to his brother and then to the Grey Lady. Eitri looked up at them.

"Does this mean what I think he's thinking?" he asked.

"He intends to bestow the Mark." Kas'tigyr revealed.

"You know what this means?" Tse'los questioned Gri'nyr. "You know what this will incur?"

"Yes." Gri'nyr clarified. "If I fail, then this is our course of action."

"Once the Mark has been laid, we can't forsake it." Tse'los reminded "It'll be our duty for the rest of eternity."

"And that Tyrant will never know peace in the meantime." Gri'nyr added. "It might just break that bastard's mind."

"Gri'nyr, you are stubborn beyond anything I ever thought possible." the Grey Lady said to him.

"Makes two of us." Gri'nyr retorted.

"Gri'nyr knelt down to Eitri, placing a hand on a large pauldron.

"You have been a testament to your people and a close friend." Gri'nyr said to Eitri. "I'm honoured to have known you."

"As have I" Eitri answered back.

"I am sorry for whatever I may have done to you." he earnestly told her. "I never intended to hurt you and you know that."

It was then that yells and primal roars were heard echoing from the corridor they had came through. The hordes were quickly converging on their position. That meant that the phalanx had been overcome.

He looked to his brothers.

"Get to my wife and son." he told them with authority. "Save them at all costs."

He turned back to the chaos below them. As he did his cloak shone into a sheet of light and when it reappeared, there was a stunning runic pattern of Aegis on it. The Shield-hawk was now protecting him once more.

"GO!" Gri'nyr commanded, bringing his scythe to bear.

Tse'los nodded and he heaved Kas'tigyr with him as the group rushed through the opening as it began to slowly close. Tse'los kept his eyes on his brother as Gri'nyr stood stoically towards the horde.

"May we meet again in the embrace of the Progenitor." Tse'los farewelled as he activated the doors.

The stone doors glowed and started to sealbehind them as Gri'nyr started to step forward.

Gri'nyr looked at the horde that was streaming out of the corridor. The grinding of the stone dorrs did little to drown out the ruckus.

"Progenitor." Gri'nyr prayed to the scythe. "Grant me strength to strike down the darkness besieging us."

The scythe's blade glowed as if in response to his prayer. Gri'nyr breathed deeply as his walk turned into a run. And as soon as the doors thundered shut, Gri'nyr initiated his attack.

Gri'nyr jumped high into the air in a bright flash, his robes and dreadlocks trailing behind him. He easily reached over a hundred feet before he dived down fast and hard into the horde. He landed dead centre in the horde, crushing several reptilian warriors and mongols, creating a massive electrifying shock wave that sent dozens of attackers flying in sparking arcs.

Gri'nyr stood up in the smouldering circle he had created and readied the scythe with a flourish. The horde backed off in anticipation.

"Come!" He dared to the horde. " Let us embrace Death!"

Immediately, the horde was on him. Gri'nyr however was ready for them. With a loud battle-cry, his armour's ornamentation flashed into life, an aura of red flame burned from his mask's eyes and the scythe glowed, ready to reap the enemy.

Gri'nyr, blurring in and out of sight, was taking out dozens of foes with a single slash of his scythe, the blade effortlessly slicing thorough them like they weren't even there. Limbs, torsos, heads and destroyed weapons were flying through the air, raining a shower of gory death all around.

Every time that the horde thought they could catch Gri'nyr from his flanks or from behind, Gri'nyr responded before they could even get close. Gri'nyr was anticipating every move the horde was making, giving him an edge over the rabble.

Gri'nyr made his way ever deeper into the sea of enslaved and their masters, butchering his way to Xel'khalos. He at last fought his way out of the rabble, to the tunnel that would lead deeper into the temple and faced the horde that was charging at him once again.

A fierce aura of flame erupted from Gri'nyr

Gri'nyr lashed out with the scythe horizontally and shot a massive crescent wave of energy from the blade right into the horde, expanding into a massive scything moon. The energy wave sliced through anything that had not had the foresight to duck. A massive tsunami of blood and severed limbs erupted in front of Gri'nyr as the whole horde literally went to pieces.

When the bloody rain stopped, there was not one Xel'khala or enslaved left.

Gri'nyr charged down into the tunnel, his armour lighting up the darkness as he ran. Up ahead he could see that the main horde was gathering outside the tunnel in preparation for his assault.

From behind Gri'nyr's back, the plasma casters activated. But not in the manner that would be normal. Instead of positioning over his shoulders, they merely raised out from his back and vents slid open, revealing glowing energy within. He ran even faster at this point, gathering speed as he prepared to dive into the hordes once again.

When he leapt out of the tunnel, he did a spinning slash with the scythe, the vents flashed into life and when he essentially struck a pose upon finishing his attack, there was a set of glowing angelic wings projecting from his back even as severed limbs rained around him.

Gri'nyr charged once more at the horde and then did an acrobatic twist through the air, the energy wings twirling around him as he dived right through a group of hollows. The wings effortlessly sliced through armour, flash and bone. Anyone caught in Gri'nyr's path were sliced to ribbons. Limbs, heads and pieces of bodies tumbled to the ground in showers of blood faster then could be counted.

If anyone was counting in this chaos that is.

The wings acted as both shield and weapon as Gri'nyr attacked and defended. The enslaved would either get sliced or burned as the wings made contact with armour or flesh. The hollows however, were more persistent.

Gri'nyr jumped high into the air, the wings propelling up high and fast. Holding out his free hand, he made a sign and before long, energy started to collect in his palm. And the energy crackled into life and before the horde knew it, Gri'nyr had brandishing a bolt of lightning his his hand. The more superstitous enslaved attempt to flee from the sight of him hovering in the air, brandishing power that the gods could only wield. Gri'nyr roared out aloud as threw the bolt right into the horde. The lightning streamed down, arcing through the air before it impacted the stone floor. A massive burst of thunder cracked throughout the temple as an untold number of enslaved, hollows and Xel'khala warriors ware reduced to dust from the erupting storm of energy that arced throughout the horde.

Gri'nyr was quick to swoop down and reap another whole score of enemies like proverbial wheat before the scythe.

* * *

><p>Xel'khalos was watching from the safety of the stairs which led deeper into the temple, giving him a superb view of Gri'nyr's struggle. He was not at all sorry for the minions who were dying by the dozens.<p>

Anything that has outlived their usefulness deserved to die, as he believed.

"The usurper wants to die." he mused. "Is he that eager to join his bastard sons?"

He turned to one of his subordinates.

"Are the restraints ready yet?" he questioned.

"In a few moments, My Lord." the guard responded. "They are just shifting into position."

"Good." Xel'khalos thanked, turning his back to the carnage. "Bring him to me, alive. I'll be waiting to dispose of him myself."

He then strode purposefully off down the corridor at the top of the stairs. His bodyguard then shouted out orders for the trap to be sprung.

After butchering his way deeper into the temple in search of Xel'khalos, losing count of the kills he had been getting, that Gri'nyr soon found another barrier.

Gri'nyr found himself singled out a 12 foot large hulking monstrosity that would make the legendary Minotaur proud. Black furred, large hoofed feet, huge fists and a demonic bull's head with wickedly curved horns ready to gore. It was restrained by barbed chains that a whole pack of enslaved were busy heaving, guiding the minotaur towards Gri'nyr.

The horde meanwhile had backed off, leaving Gri'nyr in a makeshift arena full of the dead and dying. Blood and dismembered corpses littered the area with the occasional enslaved twitching in their death throes.

It would appear that the minotaur was to attempt in killing Gri'nyr and the horde was the spectators.

Gri;nyr readied his scythe as the enslaved released the chains before scrambling back to safety. The minotaur however grabbed one puny enslaved, who resembled very much a goblin with long pointed ears and a long nose. The minotaur crushed the goblin in it's paws before throwing the carcass at Gri'nyr. Gri'nyr nimbly dodged the flying corpse before he charged at the minotaur. The minotaur scuffed it's hooves into the stone floor, creating sparks as it huffed loudly. It then thundered along at Gri'nyr, it's head down and ready to bulldoze him. Gri'nyr however had been assessing the threat and he made his move.

Gri'nyr executed a fluid flip over the minotaur, jumping right at the last moment as it was about to impact him. He lashed out with his scythe in a bright flash and singing of masterly crafted metal. The minotaur skidded to a halt, as it's severed horns fell to the ground with a dense clatter. It's stumps glowed hot and smoked with acrid vapour. It didn't waste any time charging back as soon as Gri;nyr landed on his feet. Gri'nyr however predicted this and he flipped backwards this time.

Gri'nyr landed on the minotaur's back, grabbing it by it's ragged mane and proceeded to ride it out even as it thrashed around trying to get him. Gri'nyr brought the scythe under it's neck, pulling the haft into it's throat. His energy wings and his upright dreadlocks swayed in the air as the minotaur rocked and bucked.

Gri'nyr eventually managed to get the minotaur onto the floor, making it stumble from the throttling he was giving it. With that done, he dug his boots into its back and pulled the scythe back with all his strength. The minotaur bellowed loudly as it struggled more desperately. Then with a loud crunch and a bony snap, Gri'nyr snapped it's neck, pulling far enough to cause it's throat to rupture in a torrent of blood. The large bulk of the minotaur crashed to the ground and Gri'nyr executed a fluid twisting flip, landing on his feet.

Gri'nyr at that point felt something sharp pierce the armour on his leg and then coil around it. He then felt another on his left arm, jabbing into his flesh and coiling around his arm. Looking at the cause of it for a brief moment, Gri'nyr found wickedly barbed chains latched around his limbs. And the perceiving was caused by the barbs, which were very fine phase-blades, that had punched into his limbs.

Following the chains, Gri'nyr could see Xel'khala warriors hauling the chains, trying to reel Gri'nyr in. Gri'nyr's response was to yank on the chains, pain erupting in his limbs as he pulled. With a good tug, he pulled the warriors off their feet, making them lose grip on the chain and he then use said chain as a metal whip.

He lashed out with both scythe and chain, eviscerating and thrashing anyone in their paths. In fact, the chains just made Gri'nyr adopt a new style that made it even more hazardous to even get close to him. He would sliced through with his scythe and, when he lashed the chains around one hollow's neck, he flung said hollow about as an impromptu flail. The hollow made spectacular impacts, smashing into his fellow hollows, enslaved and Xel'khala warriors, sending courses of them slamming into the floor with severe, bone cracking concussive blows. Eventually though, the hollow's head snapped off with one particularly brutal swing and his body flew out and impacted several enslaved in a bloody broken heap.

But that point, after he had taken out several dozen more enemies, more chains lashed out at him, spearing his limbs and his chest, wrapping around him tightly. Much to Gri'nyr's surprise, the chains were unaffected by the energy wings, concluding they were made from a energy resistant alloy. The chains forcefully deactivated his wings, the energy appendages fading out and the casters retracting back to the armour. Gri'nyr was momentarily snared but that was enough for the chains he had commandeered to be brought back under their control. And as they pulled, Gri'nyr struggled against them. But as more and more Xel'khala warriors grabbed the chains and added their strength, Gri'nyr was getting more encumbered.

But despite this, Grinyr was still resisting.

Gri'nyr, after much struggling and getting the occasional kill, finally fell to the ground, his mobility hindered to a point where he couldn't react fast enough any more. His last lash with his scythe magane to catch a few enslaved offguard, By this time it had taken nearly fifty Xel'khala warriors to restrain him. And the horde was on him in an instant. But before they could rip Gri'nyr apart, they were stopped by one of Xel'khalos' bodyguards, who fired a warning shot into the air.

"No!" he commanded, shooting one enslaved was about to run Gri'nyr through. "No one is to kill him but our Lord."

He barged his way through the horde, getting to where Gri'nyr was trussed up. He looked down to Gri'nyr, kneeling right beside him as Gri'nyr held the scythe close to him.

"You are incredibly brave or stupid to dive into our forces like that." the bodyguard said. "Though the damage you caused was impressive, nonetheless."

He stood back up and gave the orders to the warriors holding the chains.

"Bring him to the dumping ground." he commanded. "Our Lord will want to dispose of him personally." he then directed the horde. "Clear up this mess, leave no trace of what happened here."

Gri'nyr was immediately dragged to his feet and was then roughly hauled off. The warriors handling the chains kept a wide berth from from as they shepherded him to their destination. The enslaved were immediately put to work clearing up the carnage around them. With the amount of bodies that Gri'nyr had been leaving everywhere, the enslaved would be here for some time.

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr struggled against the chains that bound him, their barbed hooks digging into his armour and the phase-blades that had impaled his flesh ripped and tore. He kept a firm grip on his scythe as he was being led deeper into the temple.<p>

"Not so tough now when you're tied up are you." a guard jeered at him.

Gri'nyrs response was to yank hard on the chain. This brought the unsuspecting captor right into Gri'nyr's grasp and Gri'nyr elbowed him right in the throat. The yautja's windpipe collapsed like paper with a loud crunch and the arrogant guard fell to the floor coughing up blood and holding his throat in a futile attempt to breath.

"Celebrated too soon." Gri'nyr remarked to the other guards.

Another guard was quick to take his place as his predecessor chocked to death. and Gri'nyr was dragged off more forcefully as the guards kept their distance. His former captor was just left behind as he choked his last breath and slumped into the ground. No doubt he would be scavenged at a later time.

After another few minutes of being roughly dragged along like a caged animal, Gri'nyr was led onto a stone plateau overlooking a vast dark abyss. Gri'nyr recognised where he was. He was at the centre of the temple. Somewhere near the Primarch's prison itself.

And up ahead, he saw a sight he downright despised.

Xel'khalos was busying himself with some entertainment. There was a line of prisoners numbering five, one yautja, three dwarves and a Spartan, bound and on their knees with phase-blades to their throats. And one by one they were being led up and set before Xel'khalos who would then execute them to the cheers of his followers.

Xel'khalos had removed his crowned mask, which was being held by one of his bodyguards. Gri'nyr could see on his face that victory was smeared all over it. His markings made out a tribal pattern that encompassed his face. Markings that marked him out like being a son of a god. And, like many a tyrant, he no doubt believed so.

At this moment, there was another dwarf on his knees, waiting for the inevitable. Xel'khalos was no doubt toying with him, trying to make him pledge allegiance through repeated beatings. But, even though he was bloodied and mauled, the dwarf was not relenting. Xel'khalos decided at that point to try another candidate as he aimed his pistol at the dwarf's head. It was then that he saw Gri'nyr being brought up.

"Ah, there you are, Gri'nyr." Xel'khalos greeted cheerfully. "I'll be with you in one second."

He then shot the dwarf through the head with his disruptor pistol, the weapon giving off the unearthly scream as it fired. The green bolt blasted right through the dwarf's head and the dwarf slumped as his life was snuffed out in an instant. Xel'khalos walked up and examined the smoking hole he had made as his warriors cheered for him.

"The midgets' skulls aren't so hard after all." He jested, admiring the hole he had just made by sticking his hand right through and waggling his fingers

The dwarves held captive struggled at their chains in anger at that insult. They were answered by being choked by the chains around their necks and a bash around the head.

He turned to Gri'nyr as he pulled his hand back out.

'I trust you are comfortable?" Xel'khalos asked, shoving the dwarf over the edge with his boot.

The lifeless body tumbled into the darkness as Xel'khalos signalled for the next prisoner. Gri'nyr stayed silent, only cracking his gauntlets as he gripped the scythe even tighter. Xel'khalos walked up the line of prisoners, idly wagging his finger in thought as the guards kicked the prisoners forward with a boot to the head.

"I'm just separating from those will submit and those who will not." he told gri'nyr. "Unfortunately, none have yet been enlightened." He then raised his twirling finger "But there is always the chance."

Xel'khalos then pointed at a random prisoner with a finger behind his back, almost in the way like a child in a sweet shop, before walking back to the chasm edge. It was the spartan that was chosen.

"Bring in the next convert!" Xel'khalos ordered.

The spartan was dragged off to the edge, defiantly struggling against his captors and up close, Gri'nyr could see the damage that the spartan had suffered in their rearguard. His armoured suit was almost completely damaged and some of the armour plating and suit underneath had been sheared off in places, leaving bleeding flesh beneath. In fact, the gauntlet pad which his shield would be attached was completely sheared off from the rest of the gauntlet, leaving torn flesh and bone visible beneath. He had been gruesomely parted from his shield. In fact, when Gri'nyr looked around he could see several large piles of pillaged weaponry being catalogued by some Xel'khala scribes. Some of the dwarve's railguns were being handled in awe by some of the scribes.

The spartan was brought forth before Xel'khalos and brought to his knees with a few kicks to the kneecaps. His battered and torn helmet was then ripped roughly from his head and then tossed into the chasm. The Spartans face was bloodied and grazed from blows that had managed to penetrate his helmet and his long hair and closely cropped black beard was ragged and unkempt.

"You can cease struggling; you'll be dead in a few moments." Xel'khalos advised, walking up.

The Spartan however intended to keep fighting to the last.

"This pains you doesn't it?" Xel'khalos said to Gri'nyr. "You and your clan have always felt a close bond to oomans."

He then callously pistol-whipped the Spartan. The spartan's head rocked as the butt hit his head and was almost knocked out by the impact. Blood seeped down his head from where the butt split his scalp. He groaned through gritted teeth. Xel'khalos grunted with satisfaction before swinging with a backhand.

"These Spartans have certainly proved resistant to authority." He remarked, wiping the blood of the pistol's butt on the spartan's cloak. "It's a shame that they can't be enlightened like their more tribal cousins."

He looked down on the spartan as he was just regaining his senses.

"Are you ready to accept me as your Lord?" he questioned. "Accept me as your one and only true master?"

The spartan snarled a bloody snarl.

"I'd sooner fuck your mother." The spartan spat. "Though judging from you, I'd say she's hardly worth it."

He was rewarded for this insult by another pistol-whip, this time to the jaw. There was an audible crack this time. The spartan groaned softly as Xel'khalos holstered his pistol and snapped his fingers. Another guard rushed up and in his hands was the Stone.

Xel'khalos raised the stone to the next spartan and chanted in the an ancient tongue. Gri;nyr immediately recognised the language. It was the Ancients' language, passed down from their progenitor himself, that was used in ceremonial practices. The Stone's markings glowed and it started to open up with a distinct clicking of stone. The Stone unfurled itself into an hourglass shape, the centre of which housed what looked like a fiery maelstrom of energy.

Gri'nyr, his fellow yautja and the dwarves were immediately, shall we say, fearful of what was going to happen.

"This is your last chance to submit." Xel'khalos warned.

The spartan just spat bloodied spit and a loose tooth in Xel'khalos' face, right in the eye. Xel'khalos recoiled from that as he wiped his eye and growled. Some of the other prisoners laughed at that. Xel'khalos obviously felt humiliated from that show of defiance.

"I don't submit to a tyrant!" the spartan shouted in defiance. "Especially one as pathetic as you!"

Xel'khalos was so easy to taunt.

"Spit on me will you?" he growled.

He brought the opened stone up as the spartan steeled himself to face his fate

"Spit on this!" he declared.

He then roared in the Ancients tongue and the stones flashed into life. The energy within the stone was unleashed and lashed out at the spartan's face.

The Spartan screamed in unfathomed pain as white fire burned through his eyes and mouth. The flames were being drawn towards the stone. The dwarves tried to turn their heads away from the sight but the guards forced their heads back to watch this unholy spectacle.

There was a bright flash and the flames flared out of existence in a massive fiery conflagration, leaving fading embers drifting down. The stone retracted back into it's flawless sphere as the maelstrom of energy stabilised. The spartan slumped limply down and was perfectly still. Xel'khalos stood back up victoriously, holding the stone in hand before he looked up at Gri'nyr.

"Fancy a look?" he asked, planting a boot on the spartan's chest.

The spartan was pushed onto his back, hitting the stone floor hard and everyone could see the damage done.

The Spartan's eyes were completely burned out into black orbs, smoking with black acrid smog from their sockets and his open mouth. His flesh was now completely dead and necrotic. As if all the life in his body had been burned out of every cell.

"A satisfying end to a troublesome pest." Xl'khalos praised, snapping his fingers.

A guard stepped forth and grabbed the spartan by a leg. The lifeless body was then shoved over the edge with zero remorse. Xel'khalos watched the spartan plummet into the abyss before he turned back to Gri'nyr.

"I fail to see what you see in these inferiors." Xel'khalos stated. "Another of the Ossian's failed experiments. Turned out to be too much like themselves then they were comfortable with. Especially since oomans are too unpredictable to control."

"Yet you use them yourself." Gri'nyr stated, gesturing to the Mongols and Huns.

Xel'khalos straitened his shoulders at the indication of hypocrisy.

"I know how to control my slaves." Xel'khalos clarified. "Break their minds into mush and then sculpt them into what I want. And add a Neuralcyte if they prove too resistant to the traditional methods."

He sighed.

"But then again, I suppose your progenitor always felt an... inherent bond with oomans." he added.

He shuddered at the last part. Evidently what he has thinking was disgusting to him.

Gri'nyr clenched the scythe in his hand.

"Of course, you know all about that don't you." Xel'khalos added spitefully. "Runs in your blood."

He then proceeded to approach Gri'nyr, his bodyguards close to him in case Gri'nyr tried anything.

"Now, I hope you realised by now that I have won." he stated. "Despite the damage you and you allies inflicted, of which I lost count after a thousand by the way, I have succeeded. I can cope with those losses. You on the other hand can't cope with the loss."

He was then handed a holographic projector. It was activated and Gri'nyr was witness to scenes of devastation. On the multiple screens projected, he saw mass executions, looting and destruction of sacred sites and complete eradication of anything bearing his clan's mark. Nothing was being spared. He could see his fellows yautja, being engulfed by swarms of Xel'khala warriors and enslaved, killing dozens but more just kept coming. But he was proud to the fact that everyone, men women and children, were resisting to the bitter end.

"Your home world and the planets under your control have already fallen." Xel'khalos revealed. "My forces and those of my subordinates have by now established total control. All resistance is being eradicated or subjugated as I speak. And your so-called Council, MY council, is turning a blind eye."

Gri'nyr could see that some of the women were being subdued with equipment more akin to handling rabid animals, being dragged and hauled off. No prizes for guessing what their fate was to be. The dwarves and Spartans however were being executed in brutal fashion. Be it being eviscerated in a swarm or deliberately disarmed and being blasted apart from weapons fire with no means for defence.

"Any of your line who had managed to slip away will be hunted down and killed." Xel'khalos continued with his victorious rhetoric. "And with that, all record of your clan will be wiped from history. Every book burned, every scribe and historian who dares to record your clan will have their eyes gouged and their tongues ripped from their mouth. Even uttering you clan's name or your progenitor's will be punishable by death."

He then smiled as he stood and towered over Gri'nyr.

"It will be like it should have been: you will never have existed at all." he finished.

Gri'nyr didn't appear to be affected by the news. If he was, he was making a supreme effort of containing it. Xel'khalos was perplexed by his reaction.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" Xel'khalos guessed. "Don't think that fate itself or your progenitor will intervene. I have already won."

Gri'nyr responded by pointing out a weakness to Xel'khalos' attempt to break him.

"You sound so sure." he pointed out. "You forget that early celebrations lead to defeat?"

"Early celebrations?" Xel'khalos repeated. "Oh no, I'm not celebrating early."

He shut off the holo-projector and tossed it to one of his guards.

"My ancestor has been planning for your downfall since the Founding, and my clan have continued planning ever since." Xel'khalos stated with pride. "After your progenitor usurped his rightful place."

Gri'nyr gave a scoffing laugh at the accusation.

"Rightful?" he questioned, playing with the word. "I find that very hard to believe."

Gri'nyr shifted on his knees for a more comfortable posture. As much as the chains would allow.

"You remember the mantra?" Gri'nyr asked. "'To become Death, One must embrace their own.'"

"I know of that ridiculous phrase." Xe'khalos stated, waving his hand dismissively. " Embracing death makes you stronger, or something just as pointless. And a fat lot of good it did for you in the end!"

Gri'nyr was resolute.

"Your ancestor failed because he was too afraid to die." Gri'nyr continued, even more imposing then Xel'khalos. "Wouldn't sacrifice himself for the sake of others. A fear that you have ironically inherited. A fear that that has led you to commit a fatal mistake."

Xel'khalos stood tall over Gri'nyr.

"Mistake?" he postulated. "I have made no mistake. I have set things back on their rightful course."

He then cocked his head.

"But then again, I need certain items to cement my place." he added. "Items to make sure no one like you fucks everything up again."

Xel'khalos pointed to the scythe in Gri'nyr's hands.

"Your scythe." he indicated. "Give it to me now."

Gri'nyr coughed a mocking laugh at the idea.

"Are you insane?" he asked before turning to the prisoners. "Anyone want to take a quick vote?"

His yautja clan-brother and the dwarves burst out laughing at the idea. The dwarves laughed the loudest. This was just what was needed. Something to make light of the situation and hurl some abuse at Xel'khalos while they're at it.

"Take a quick vote?!" one of the dwarves repeated. "That's a good one!"

"There's no need!" another dwarf added. "He's already there!"

They laughed louder and Xel'khalos' patience snapped in a few seconds from the first guffaw. Xel'khalos, like other sociopath tyrants, hated it when others made fun of him. Far beyond the point of fanaticism.

"Silence!" he ordered.

The dwarves only laughed louder in response.

"Fuck you!" a dwarf shouted back "You don't command us!"

The guards proceeded to beat the prisoners until they shut up. One dwarf however was proving less then cooperative. He continued to snicker, just to infuriate Xel'khalos some more even as blows rained upon him.

"Silence!" Xel'khalos demanded, stomping up and grabbing the dwarf by his beard, wrenching him up face-to-face. "Silence or you die right now!"

"Aww, The Baby isn't getting his way!" the dwarf shouted back, not cowed in the slightest.

Xel'khalos lost his temper at that point. He slammed the laughing dwarf hard onto his knees, brought the disruptor pistol up and shot the dwarf right in the face. The dwarf rolled onto his back from the force of the blast at point blank range as his last laugh left his lungs, a huge laughing grin on his blackened and charred, hole-blasted face. Xel'khalos walked up and then proceeded to blast that smile from the dwarf's head with shot after shot from his pistol. When he was finished, there was no head other than a pile of black ashen dust with the remnants of a beard protruding out of it.

That shut everyone up.

Xel'khalos holstered his pistol, of which the barrel was glowing faintly hot, as the guard restraining that dwarf hauled the headless body off and chucked it down the abyss.

"Anyone else!?" he shouted.

He didn't get an answer.

Xel'khalos grunted in content before he resumed his coercion of Gry'nyr.

"Get me that scythe!" Xel'khalos ordered, his patience so thin it wasn't even there.

Gri'nyr at that point, much to everyone's surprise, held out the scythe. Xel'khalos was taken back that Gri'nyr was just handing it over to him.

Was he capitulating so soon?

"Here, take it." Gri'nyr said, in a rather friendly manner.

He then cocked his head when Xel'khalos wasn't coming forward as he had been so eager for it.

"What's the matter?" Gri'nyr asked. "Do you want my progenitor's scythe or not?"

Xel'khalos looked at the scythe with a glimmer of desire in his eyes. But, being the more cautious and self-preservative yautja, he got one of his lackeys to get the scythe. One of his bodyguards stepped forwards towards Gri'nyr.

"Could you hurry up please?" Gri'nyr urged. "My arms are getting tired. These chains are a real hindrance, you know?"

What they didn't know was that Gri'nyr was hiding a smile behind his mask.

The guard grabbed the scythe and, as sudden as his fingers touched the haft, something happened.

As soon the the guard's grabbed the haft fully in his hand, a massive surge of power erupted like a storm from where he was holding it. This caused everyone except for Gri'nya and his allies to recoil in surprise. The guard screamed in pain and terror as he pulled his smoking hand back as fast as he could, taking a several frantic steps back. Looking down, he saw the damage that the scythe had done to him. His hand was charred, beyond any recognition to be considered living, by a mass of lightning and fire that had engulfed his hand. Armour, flesh and bone was essentially flash burned into charcoal faster then the blink of an eye.

"What is this sorcery?!" he screamed, watching his hand crumble into dust and then his whole forearm followed.

The captive dwarves and yautja burst out laughing again. They were answered by more beatings from their captors.

"You just fell for the oldest trick in the book!" A dwarf shouted as blows landed on him.

Xel'khalos at that point realised how he was nearly suckered in.

"I can't touch the scythe!?" he realised.

Gri'nyr rolled his head.

"Of course you can't touch it, you stupid man!" Gri'nyr shouted, pulling back the scythe. "It answers to my bloodline alone."

That revelation wasn't going to stop Xel'khalos however. He was going to have it, even if he had to made hundreds of his own men into cripples.

"Restrain him!" Xel'khalos ordered.

The guard yanked on their chains, pulling Gri'nyr back into a crucified position with a sharp metallic ringing of armour and flesh. More blood seeped out of his wounds as he was stretched out into a crucifix, the scythe still in his defiant grasp.

Gri'nyr strained as he felt the blades dig and tear deeper into his body. It would seem that Xel'khalos was content on torturing him into renouncing the scythe. As each guard tugged on the chains, the blades dug ever deeper into Gri'nyr's flesh.

"Relinquish the scythe!" Xel'khalos demanded. "Give it to me now!"

Gri'nyr tilted his head to the side in a rather ominous fashion.

"You want my progenitor's scythe?" he asked, standing to his feet before he took a breath. "Then try and catch it!"

He reared up, yanking the chains back and throwing the guards of their feet, throwing the scythe vertically right at Xel'khalos. Self preservation coming into play, Xel'khalos narrowley dodged the scythe. His cloak was slice clean off by the spinning blade, many of his skull trophies shattering as the ancient weapon blurred past him with a loud whoosh of metal.

The scthye spun through the air like an enormous boomerang, shining in the darkness, back towards them. Xel'khalos was almost tranfixed by it as is came to him. He seemed to be readying himself to catch it.

However, with a flick of the wrist upwards and a litany in the ancient tongue, Gri'nyr changed everything. Xel'khalos, despite speaking it when using the stone, could not understand what Gri'nyr was chanting. It would seem that Xel'khalos had only bothered to learn enough so that he could use the Stone.

The scythe flew up into the air before everyone. It spun faster and faster, causing a storm of energy to erupt around it. Forceful winds swept and battered the very atmosphere around the scythe causing electrostatic sparks to dance through the air. The scythe had become the eye of the storm that now raged.

"What is this?!" Xel'khalos demanded from Gri'nyr. "What are you doing?!"

Gri'nyr didn't answer as he continued to focus.

The blade and haft of the scythe glowed fiercely, trailing a storm of glowing embers behind, almost like it was starting to tear itself apart. And as the entire weapon glowed into a miniature sun, it blipped out of existence in a flash that would make a supernova proud. A shower of light particles drifted down before fading.

While everyone was in awe from what they saw, Xel'khalos was instead filled with cheated rage.

"NO!" he roared, before turning to Gri'nyr with rage on his face. "You destroyed the scythe!?"

Gri'nyr chuckled at the assumption as he fell to his knees and hands, breathing heavily.

"So painfully blind." he panted, shaking his head. "It just opened a Gate and jumped out of here."

Xel'khalos was puzzled from the answer he got from Gri'nyr.

"Gates?!" Xel'khalos questioned before realisation took hold. "Gates!"

"Gates." Gri'nyr repeated. "Beats Faster-Then-Light any day."

Xel'khalos paced up, drawing his glowing phase-blade dagger. He grabbed Gri'nyr by the neck, pulling him onto his knees

"Where is it?!" he demanded. "Answer me!"

"Back to its creator." Gri'nyr simply replied.

He was answered when Xel'khalos stabbed him in the chest, right up to the hilt with his phase-blade, effortlessly punching into Gri'nyr's lung. Gri'nyr hissed as he felt the blade slice into him.

"Don't give me cryptic riddles!" Xel'khalos warned "Where is it!?"

Gri'nyr simply clasped a hand around Xel'khalos', keeping him close to him.

"Where do you think?" Gri'nyr questioned hostly, turning to everyone. "Back to my progenitor. Cetanu!"

He made the last word very clear, making sure everyone heard that. It became apparent that Xel'khalos's followers were a bit, to put it lightly, disturbed from that announcement. Gri'nyr's fellow yautja and the dwarves however bowed their heads in reverence.

"Your progenitor is dead!" Xel'khalos stated as loudly as Gri'nyr, twisting the blade. "He disappears and the rest think of him as a god. He is dead!"

Gri;nyr shook his head at that claim, even as his lifeblood was trickling past their fingers.

"Not dead." Gir'nyr corrected. "Merely sleeping. Waiting for the moment when he will awaken once more."

"Your progenitor is dead!"

"Then why are you so afraid?"

Xel'khalos sharply wrenched his blade out of Gri'nyr's chest, drawing a green arc of blood as he did so. Gri'nyr sighed as he felt the blade leave his flesh.

"You have wasted enough of my time." Xel'khalos decided. "It is time to end this."

He turned to the guards who had even now grabbed the dwarves by their heads.

"Kill those runts!" he ordered.

The guards nodded and they brought their blades down into the dwarves backs. Right in the base of the neck between their armour. The dwarves spasm as the blades drove right down their spines and through their hearts, their lives ebbing away within seconds. The guards withdrew their blades and the dwarves collapsed to the ground, their dark red blood spurting out of their necks. They were then dragged off, leaving a great red trail behind them before being chucked off the edge like a butcher dumping offal onto a street.

Xel'khalos watched as the lifeless bodies disappeared into the abyss.

"The scythe would have been an added bonus." he said in a cheated fashion. "But, I now have the vital element towards my ancestor's grand vision."

He looked down to the stone with greed present in his eyes. But not for the material kind.

Gri'nyr looked at his hand, seeing his blood continue to seep out. The phase-blade was preventing his body from healing and he knew that this was the fatal wound. But he would hold out as long as he could to ensure that vengeance could be carried out.

"Ahh, the grand vision." he said, placing his hand back over the wound. "Since I'm going to die anyway, care to tell me what it is?"

Xel'khalos turned to him.

"I have already told you." Xel'khalos reminded. "Our races, MY clan's, dominion over this galaxy."

Gri'nyr wasn't convinced. Xel'khalos woudln't go through all this genocidal tyrany just for dominion.

"Your hiding somthing." he said, making a gesture with his thumb and index finger, making a centimeter high space between his fingertip "A tiny but fatal flaw in your grand design."

Xel'khalos paced right up to him gave him a viscous backhand that was enough to make Gri'nyr stagger for a moment. And that was something that wouldn't happen often.

"There is no flaw!" Xel'khalos roared right in his face.

Gri'nyr chuckled at the blow, cracking his neck as if nothing happened.

"So you CAN throw a punch." Gri'nyr jested before he got serious. "And i'm right aren't I? There is a flaw. You wouldn't be like that if there wasn't."

Xel'khalos towered over him.

"An everlasting empire will rise from the ashes of your demise." Xel'khalos preached before he clasped the Stone possessively. "But, an everlasting empire will need an everlasting emperor." he added, with a very slight hint of admittance.

He looked down to the Stone.

"And your precious Stone is the key to that." he revealed, looking back at him before he gave a wicked grin. "Which reminds me."

He then walked over to the captive warrior. The guard restrained the warrior as Xel'khalos approached.

"The only thing left is the fuel." he said.

The warrior looked up to him, face bloody and bruised.

"Don't try to resist." Xel'khalos warned with hostility, as the Stone opened up.

The warrior leered at him.

"I hope you hollow slowly." The warrior spat back.

That was when the energy of the stone lashed out at him.

The warrior was straining, fighting against what the Stone was doing to him. Even as the energy continued to lash at his body, trying to find purchase, he was fighting it with every shred of will he had. Xel'khalos focused more, causing the energy of the Stone to brighten and more fervently try to find purchase. But, the warrior was still resisting, even as the energy was forcing his body around.

Xel'khalos, seeing that this warrior was too strong of will, nodded his head and his guard nodded back. The guard drew a hand back, one which had a phase-blade dagger, and drove it into the warriors back. The blade ripped into the warrior, punching out of his chest with a sickening slice of flesh and bone. Right through the heart.

The Warrior chocked and gasped as he felt his life and more importantly his will to resist, leaving his body.

Literally.

The energy from the Stone, latched into his hemorraging body, now having a firm foothold on his dying body. With each gasping breath, a glowing white flame-like mist was leaving his body from his eyes and mouth.

The same as The Grey Lady's student.

Xel'khalos, at that point, breathed in deeply, almost like a ghost, and the white mist was sucked into his mouth. Xel'khalos was inhaling for an unearthly long time as more of the flame was drawn out of the warrior, whose body was quivering and he let off a loud roar of pain as the flames intensified into a bright light.

After another moment, the flames were sucked painfully right out of the warrior's body, silencing his scream, and wisped down Xel'khalos' mouth. Xel'khalos stopped inhaling, giving of a loud grunt of enjoyment. The warrior slumped to the ground as the guard shoved him off his blade. Xel'khalos made the gesture of wiping his mouth as if he had just eaten an exquisite meal.

"Ahh." Xel'khalos sighed in delight. "How rejuvenating."

Xel'khalos looked down at the dead warrior. Or who was thought to be dead.

"Rise." Xel'khalos commanded.

That was when the warrior shifted to his knees in a sluggish and numb manner. When the warrior raised his head, Gri'nyr saw what had happened.

The warrior had been rendered hollow as evidenced by empty eyes which burned with baleful flame. Even as his blood had now but all but left his body, he was still alive but only in the sense he was still moving.

Xel'khalos poked the hollow in the head and watched as it swayed. He then chuckled.

"I have no more use for you." Xel'khalos decided, drawing his disruptor pistol.

Xel'khalos then shot the now hollowed yautja in the head, ending his now half life as his body slumped backwards onto the floor. The guard then promptly dragged the double dead body to the edge and shoved it off the edge.

"His power, his knowledge and skills are now mine. And a little more of your clan's power is now mine." Xel'khalos praised. "It feels... perfect."

Gri'nyr then realised what Xel'khalos had been doing before he was brought up here. He had been soul-draining his clan brothers before killing their empty shells. While this did fill him with anger and revulsion, it did however make a certain emotion bubble up.

One emotion that was completely irrelevant in a dark moment like this.

Gri'nyr, at that point and to everyone's complete puzzlement, had burst out laughing, coughing a few times, at Xel'khalos and shaking his head. Gri'nyr couldn't believe it that Xel'khalos had actually gone through with it. Xel'khalos had made the biggest mistake he could have possibly made.

Xel'khalos, for once, was silent in confusion from this display.

He had instilled comedy instead of dread?

"You are a bigger fool than I ever thought possible!" Gri'nyr shouted out loud, pointing at Xel'khalos in a gesture of supreme irony with dash of stupidity. "You have damned yourself all this time and you didn't even know it!"

Xel'khalo lowered the stone as it retracted back into shape.

"Explain?" Xel'khalos ordered, with a slight tone of curiosity.

Gri'nyr shifted on his knees, almost slipping the the ever growing pool of his own blood.

"Using the Stone for a purpose it was never intended is a death sentence." Gri'nyr explained. "Despite what you have scrounged about the Stone, you have left out, or ignored, a fatal flaw."

"What flaw?" Xel'khalos questioned.

"The price for Soul-Drain." Gri'nyr revealed. "Your 'path' to becoming everlasting."

Gri'nyr took a deep breath, getting as much air in his ruptured lungs as he could.

"True that while you can gain power and long life through draining a living soul, a hunger will slowly emerge from doing so." Gri;nyr explained making sure Xel'khalos was absorbing every word. "And this hunger is nothing that can be described."

He shifted in the pool of blood that was continuously growing around him, trickling from his many wounds.

"The more souls you consume, the greater the hunger will become." he continued. "Inevitably, maybe even right now, you will develop a dependency that will grow and grow and will never be sated, no matter how many souls you claim. And when you can't feed the hunger, the true Hollowing, to put it lightly, begins and you become something less then living."

He then gave a low sigh.

"In the end, when you are but a hunger driven shell, Death will be the only mercy left for you." Gri'nyr finished "And even then, Death isn't enough for the fate that awaits your own withered soul. Such is the fate of those who Soul-Drain."

Xl'khalos kept an emotionless face at this knowledge. While on the outside there was no acknowledgement, Gri'nyr could definitely sense a change in Xel'khalos' psyche. It as one of a desperation to avert this fate.

"Then I'd better make sure I never die." Xel'khalos declared, raising the stone. "Your soul should last quite a while, I imagine."

He came walking up, deliberately slowly so that he could make as much as an imposing march as possible, holding the Stone up.

"Maybe I'll find out where you precious scythe ended up when I feed on your knowledge." Xel'khalos added. "And for added insult, I will make you my undying slave. To hunt down any who have escaped this day. Maybe your brothers and that witch whore that you rejected."

Gri'nyr shook his head. He thought as much that this would be Xel'khalos' decision. His ancestor's fear of death would prevail over any other.

"I can see that you are never going to listen to reason." Gri'nyr regrettably said. "So set in your misguided ways, you are."

He shook his shoulders in defeat.

"Well, I guess it's a hollowed life for me in the end." he sighed in melancholy.

"Now you are getting the picture." Xel'khalos said in victory. "Now this shall be something to remember."

Gri'nyr held up a hand with a gesture of plea.

"Before you do so, grant me just one request." Gri'nyr pleaded. "As much as it is shameful to beg, grant me just one request."

"And what is that?" Xel'khalos questioned.

Gri'nyr pointed to his masked face.

"Look me in the eye as you do it." he asked. "It would make a better tale when they hear of this for centuries to come. Don't you think?"

Xel'khalos thought about it and he immediately thought that would be a fitting request. Little did he know that Gri'nyr had an ulterior motive for that request.

As Xel'khalos levelled his head with Gri'nyr's, raising the stone and beginning to chant, Gri'nyr made his move. He knew that Xel'khalos would arrogantly fulfil this wish, so confidant in his victory.

Faster than anyone could have anticipated, Gri'nyr lashed out with a hand, breaking the chains binding his arm, and grabbed Xel'khalos on the head, his palm on the yautja's forehead. His hand ignited into a blue aura and that was when Xel'khalos would feel the pain. Xel'khalos instantly screamed in unrestrained, absolute, and much deserved pain as the flames engulfed his entire head. He thrashed around to try and shake Gri'nyr off as they crashed to the stone floor. The Stone was flung from Xel'khalos' hand, bouncing off the stone floor and almost rolling off the edge as one of Xel'khalos' guards rushed to grab it. The other guards rushed to the aid of their lord as Gri'nyr was reciting a litany in the Ancients tongue. The guards with the chains pulled and tugged on them, gouging deeper into Gri'nyr's body as more guards grabbed Gri'nyr by any means, trying to get him off their lord.

The flames, while not actually burning Xel'khalos' face, certainly gave the impression. And Gri'nyr had no intentions of letting go just yet.

Gri'nyr gave out a loud roar, the eyes of his mask and his armour flashed into life as a massive sphere of lightning erupted from him, disintegrating the chains that stabbed his body and blasting back all those who had grabbed him in electrified arcs. A fresh wave of new guards swiftly filled the gaps as their power struck comrades hit the stone floor hard or where catapulted into the chasm's void.

Xel'khalos was still thrashing around trying to get free in all the chaos, even as tendrils of light were now coursing around his body and penetrating through. But, they did not cause any damage. Rather they seemed to be transferring some sort of energy into Xel'khalos writhing body.

Gri'nyr at that point was torn from Xel'khalos. More accurately, he had let go of Xel'khalos' head, and was dragged roughly away from the flaming yautja in an entangled heap with Xel'kahlos' guards. The strength he had been conserving for this moment, was now spent.

"You are so easy to bait!" Gri'nyr laughed, even as the guards were now pummelling him into the ground. 'Your lord is a fucking idiot!" he shouted to everyone.

Xel'khalos was rolling around on the floor, grunting and yelling in unfathomed pain. His head was still engulfed with blue flame that was now starting to change colour. When he rolled to his knees, the flame had now turned into a baleful orangey yellow.

He lowered his hands and Gri'nyr was proud to see that Xel'khalos was nearly on the verge of tears. Xel;khalos look up at Gri'nyr, his head covered by his hands.

"What have you done to me!?" Xel'khalos screamed, the flames on his head trailing from his hands.

Sure enough, the flames were gathering on his forehead, concentrating into a glowing symbol seamlessly transcribed in his flesh. The symbol was that of Gri'nyr's clan. But it wasn't full. All that it is was a hollow outline, burning with an eerie flaming glow. Like that of an eclipsed sun.

"Sealing your fate." Gri'nyr said. "Branding the Marked."

Xel'khalos stood up as he tried to brush off the flames. The flames however would not stop burning. He then paced right up to Gri'nyr.

"You and riddles!" he roared, striking Gri'nyr in the head with a backhanded swipe.

Gri'nyr chuckled in a rather ominous manner as he faced Xel'khalos once more, his mask's lenses flashing crimson.

"Your bear the Mark now." Gri'nyr said malevolently. "Death is inevitable for you."

"Take him to edge!" Xel'khalos commanded.

Gri;nyr was still defiant as he was dragged off.

"By my hand or my descendants, you will die." he declared. "They tyrant must have a Slayer. Cetanu decrees it!"

"Your progenitor is DEAD!" Xel'khalos roared in reminder

Gri'nyr however was not convinced.

"When the time comes, he will be very much alive." Gri'nyr foretold. "For his descendants, the sleeper will awaken!"

Xel'khalos drew his pistol and he frustratingly and feverishly set it on the maximum setting possible. The weapon charged and glowed, arcs of green lightning coursing around. And it was getting brighter and brighter.

He intended to finish of his rival once and for all.

His bodyguards were however shocked that their lord would use the disruptor pistol in this fashion. A fashion that was both effective and suicidal.

"My lord, don't!" a guard urged, trying to take the increasingly unstable weapon away from his master.

He was answered with a fist to the face as Xel'khalos aimed the weapon.

"You are just averting the inevitable." Gri'nyr warned, getting to his feet. "Cetanu will come for you in the end. Through my descendants he will arise, as was foretold in the annals of Fate!"

Gri'nyr intended to die on his feet. Xelkhalos didn't care as long as Gri'nyr died.

"You will all die!" Xel'khalos decreed, aiming the now ridiculously unstable weapon at his rival.

"You can't defeat Death!" Gri'nyr countered.

Xel'khalos roared as he aimed and fired his disruptor at Gri'nyr. Gri'nyr quickly held his arms in front of his face, crossed at the wrists and concentrated as much as he could. There was a bright blinding flash of green lightning as the bolt hit and Gri'nyr was shot off the edge. He plummeted into the abyss, his smoking body trailing blood behind him.

Xel'khalos was also blown back from the flash. The disruptor had reached a critical level of system failure from containing so much energy for too long. It had exploded in Xel'khalos' hand when it fired and he ended up on the stone floor, cradling his firing hand as a shower of green sparks and metal fragments rained around him.

Xel'khalos frantically looked at his hand and, much to his relief, he was unharmed. The only damage was a ruined gauntlet that had caught the full blast of the explosion and was now blackened and crumbling as he moved his fingers.

His relief soon turned into maniacal laughter.

He looked up to dark above as he cackled loudly. To where the Gods themselves would be looking down upon them.

"Need you more proof of what fate's choice is?!" he yelled to the heavens. "Cetanu is dead! And Xel'khala lives!'

His bodyguards rushed to his aid, only for them to be waved off violently. He grabbed the Stone from the guard who had saved it and hugged it possessively to his bosom. He then straightened what was left of his cloak, regaining his composure.

"Let us leave this tomb." He commanded, walking to the archway leading from this area "I have an empire to rule."

* * *

><p>Gri'nyr opened his eyes after what felt like hours, shaking his head to ward off dizziness from the fall. At first all he saw was darkness and he was sure he had landed on something piled up. Something that felt bipedal and heavily armoured. When his eyes adjusted and his mask flashed into life, he saw another more darker sight.<p>

What he saw was a gruesome. He had landed on a massive pile of bodies, more then Gri'nyr could count on his position. Executed prisoners that Xel'khalos had disposed of himself or his followers did on his behalf. Most were dwarves or his fellow yautja. The dwarves had either been shot through the head or had their throats slit so deep that their heads might snap off. The yautja on the other hand had been soul-drained before being executed, their souls feeding the hunger that would even now begin to fester in Xel'khalos' own soul.

Rolling down the pile, clattering along the way. and hitting the snow covered ground, which had been dyed in a deep red mixed with green, he found another element to this necrotic monument. At the bottom were a small number of spartans. Each had been brutally executed to the manner of butchering wild animals. Their amour was completely caved in and wrecked, as if they had been subjected to a battering ram while they were still inside the armour. No doubt slow and painfully to add. And each had had their shield brutally torn from their arms.

Gri'nyr could only guess that they were stragglers who had the misfortune of being captured and executed by Xel'khalos himself.

Gri'nyr heaved himself up into a sitting position, feeling his blood continue seep from the wounds that the phase-blades had done to him. His body was holding up but the drain was starting to take it's toll.

Gri'nyr chuckled as he looked up.

"Arrogant bastard, I knew you would shoot me on full power." He said, before wincing at his wounds. "Luckily, I still had strength for the Shield Sign." He added as he looked to his arms and saw that the armour was charred and smouldering. "Barely." He admitted.

He shifted to his knees, taking deep breaths as he focused on staying alive for the time being. There was something he had to do.

"Must get to the Sanctuary." he said to himself. "Must prepare for the future."

Gri'nyr then heard a low groan and the shifting of bodies. The groan of a badly wounded human. He looked at the necrotic pile, trying to pinpoint where the groan had emanated. When the bodies on the bottom of the pile shifted again, Gri'nyr saw the source.

He found only one survivor, but just barely.

It was Dionekes trying to pull himself out from under all the corpses. And he was badly wounded as his groans suggested. His armour was all damaged, it's once shining ornamentation was cracked and fractured from multiple blows. There was a large gash in his side, the armour rend with unearthly cleanliness that only a phase-blade can give. And he had been run right through his liver, only for the blade to be twisted and yanked out.

But, by sheer determination or luck, he still had his shield and weapons with him.

"Dionekes!" Gri'nyr said in surprise.

He didn't expect to find anyone alive down here.

The spartan lifted his head when he heard Gri'nyr and looked around trying to find him

"Gri'nyr?" he called. "Where..."

Gri'nyr shuffled up and carefully grabbed the spartan by his shoulders before pulling him out with a few gentle tugs.

"Don't speak." Gri'nyr said, laying Dionekes on the snowy ground to better examine him. "Save your strength."

Dionekes laughed at Gri'nyr's advice, pointing to his gaping wound.

"I think I know what's going to happen to me." he pointed out, with a chuckle. "I'll talk plenty till then."

Gri'nyr heaved him up into a sitting position as the spartan groaned. And it was here that Dionekes saw the extent of Gri'nyr's wounds.

"You look like you been in a fight with the main horde." Dionekes guessed.

"I managed to take out a fair chunk of them before the chains got me." Gri'nyr said, looking back at the pile. "What happened to the rest of your brothers?" Gri'nyr asked, indicating to the dead spartans.

"Soul-Flayed." Dionekes revealed.

Gri'nyr bowed his head. It wasn't the thing he wanted to hear, but he had a feeling that what had happened to them. Xel'khalos executing that spartan by Soul-Flaying was evidence enough.

"Bastard got fed up of us resisting for so long with so... little deaths that he brought a swift end." Dionekes explained, taking deep breaths. "Most of us died from that exposure of the... Stone, but a few us managed to resist. Only to be captured and executed for... entertainment."

He shook his head in defiance.

"I couldn't let... it happen to me." he said, clenching his spear. "I die... on my own terms. The bastard singled me out for a fight, offering us freedom if I beat him." he said before pointing to his wound "And the bastard cheated of course. Stabbed me and then pushed me over the edge."

He bowed his head.

"I'm the only one left now." he said.

Gri'nyr shook him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Some of your fellows managed to escape with my brothers, Eitri and the Grey Lady." Gri'nyr revealed. "We managed to save some of us."

Dionekes looked surprised to hear that anyone had survived.

"They escaped?" he asked.

"I hope so." Gri'nyr earnestly admitted. "Maybe they linked up with other stragglers who got out."

"You family?" Dionekes asked, with a more desperate tone.

Gri'nyr didn't answer. Dionekes lowered his head when he understood Gri'nyr's silence. But there was no time to grieve as Gri'nyr got to his feet.

"Come on." Gri'nyr said, raising Dionekes to his feet and wrapping the spartan's arm around his shoulder. "They'll scavenge the dead soon. Steal whatever they hadn't stolen. We must get to the Sanctuary."

Gri'nyr carried Dionekes off to safety but where to, Dionekes could only guess. If he survived long enough that is.

* * *

><p>The massive stone doors slid shut before them. Gri'nyr brought his hand back from the stone doors and turned into the chamber. The massive chamber, with eight large pillars in geographical positions, illuminated by a shaft of light at the centre. The light of which was covering a large stone sarcophagus.<p>

And much to Gri'nyr's surprise and delight, he could see Aegis sitting on the sarcophagus, tending to his wound. Gri'nyr could see that the damage that the disruptor inflicted on his pet, a nasty gash that spread from the base of his neck, down across his breast and to his thigh. But it was slowly and surely healing, regain some of it's once lustrous shine.

A huge weight has been lifted from Gri'nyr's shoulders.

"My old friend." he whispered in heartfelt greeting.

Gri'nyr turned to Dionekes and his breath caught when he saw the state of his friend.

Dionekes head was just lolling around. He was losing consciousness fast from blood loss and fatigue.

"Dionekes, we're here." Gri'nyr told, shaking the spartan back to life.

Dionekes struggled to raise his head, groaning weakly. But when he did and he saw the chamber, he murmured in Greek.

"Sanctuary." he wheezed, before he caught sight of Aegis. "Aegis?"

"Come." Gri'nyr said, heaving the spartan's weight onto his shoulder.

Dionekes was now so weak that he could barely move his legs as Gri'nyr moved them both further into the chamber. His legs were now essentially just trailing behind him, smearing his blood onto the stone.

"We failed." Dionekes said.

"No, we accomplished our duty." Gri;nyr corrected "The primarchs are dead or imprisoned. Our clan succeeded, only to be stabbed in the back by our own jealous, and shall we say cancerous, kind."

Dionekes gave a wheezing laugh.

"They would've gotten... along with the Persians so well." he compared. "They make... Ephialtes look like a muse in comparison."

Gri'nyr nodded as he recognised the name.

"Ah, the one who betrayed your king to the Persians." Gri'nyr remembered. "Still, that last stand will never be forgotten."

Aegis looked on as Gri'nyr placed Dionekes down to the central right pillar. Dionekes sat himself down with a loud clatter as his legs finally gave out. Gri'nyr went about relinquishing the spartan of his spear and sword so he could get comfortable. The shield was to remain with him as Gri'nyr knelt before him.

Dionekes let out a saddened sigh that was borderline to a sob, for a spartan.

"Everyone is dead." he wheezed. "My brother spartans. The Stone-Kin. Your clan."

He raised his head.

"My... my younger sister and nephews... dead." Dionekes said, finally letting grief come out. "Your wife and sons, who share our blood, are dead. Murdered like animals!"

Gri'nyr bowed his head. Indeed, Dionekes was in fact his mate's older brother. And the human uncle to his hybrid sons. He surmised that Xel'khalos must have been rubbing that into Dionekes mind during their duel. Possibly even shown him the severed heads to distract him from the fight so that he could then cheat with out Dionekes noticing.

"My mate and youngest son will be protected by my grandfather and the Shield Maidens." Gri'nyr postulated. "They would buy time for my brothers to reach them."

Dionkekes looked up to him.

"How can..." he started before he coughed and retched hard.

He was fading fast.

"My brothers will make sure they survive." Gri;nyr promised. "They have to. The Tyrant must have a Slayer."

He put a hand on Dionekes' shoulder.

"You and your brethren fought well in all the battles we fought together." Gri'nyr praised. "Regardless of what the yautja might think of you, you oomans have more potential then any race I have ever seen. And you were, and still are, a worthy addition to our bloodline."

Dionekes raised his free hand with all the trembling strength that he could muster, his life quickly fleeing his body. Gri'nyr clasped his hand in a brotherly grip, their blood mingling with the other's.

"It was an honour... to die at your side." Dionekes praised.

"And it was mine to be by yours." Gri;nyr returned.

Dionekes paused as Gri'nyr could see that he was now on his way out. He knew that Dionekes was no longer looking at him. He was looking into space as a final image was engulfing his mind.

"Elysium." Dionekes wheezed. "I can see... Elysi..."

Dionekes head slowly dropped down and he let out his final breath as a content sigh. His grip loosened in Gri'nyrs hand, before slipping out and slapping the stone floor.

Gri'nyr lowered his head to Dionekes, their armoured brows touching.

"Rest, brother." he whispered.

Gri'nyr gently let go of Dionekes now still body and went about reciting the final rites for the ancestors to guide the spartan's soul to the Progenitor.

Gri'nyr looked to the centrepiece of the chamber when he finished the last litany. The large stone sarcophagus with Aegis sitting on top.

There was one last thing he had to do.

"Not much time." he said, heaving himself onto his feet.

He gathered up Dionekes' weapons in both hands, the kopis in it's scabbard and retracting the dory into it's inert state before he moved determinedly towards the sarcophagus. His blood dripped from his wounds to the floor, leaving a trail behind him.

He stumbled at the last step, falling on top of the sarcophagus with a groan, Dionekes' spear and kopis falling out of his hands and clattering on the stone steps.. His blood seeped onto the stonework, pooling inside the crevices and trickling down the side. Aegis hopped on over to him, concern in his eyes.

Gri'nyr reached out a hand and stroked Aegis on his crested head.

"Yes, old friend." Gri'nyr said, sadly. "My time has come."

Aegis let out a sad trill as Gri'nyr pulled his hand back so he could heave himself up.

"Aegis." Gri'nyr said, getting on his elbows. "Listen to me carefully."

Aegis came closer, intent on listening to his masters' final command.

"In a time long after we're gone and our clan forgotten, one of our line will return to this place to fulfil the vengeance on those who destroyed our clan." Gri'nyr explained. "When you see the descendant, you will know what to do."

Aegis nodded and Gri'nyr reached out to bring his pet into an embrace one last time. Aegis rested his head in the crook of Gri'nyr's neck

"You have been my closest companion for many a long year." Gri'nyr praised, keeping Aegis close to him. 'I will miss you."

He released Aegis who hopped away from him, still keeping eye contact with him.

"Now, go and keep vigil for the One." Gri;nyr commanded.

Aegis nodded, flapped his wings and flew up into the air and out of sight. Gri'nyr watched as Aegis disappeared into the darkness, sighing as he resumed to the task at hand.

"My armour may not be suitable for this purpose but it's the only way to help those yet born." he said, placing his hand onto the imprint.

The stonework glowed blue as Gri'nyr heaved himself off the lid as it retracted open. He reached down to pick up the dory and kopis before he placed them inside. Once this was done, he heaved himself inside, getting on his back with a thud and draping his long dreadlocks over him like a blanket.

"The armour will heal in time." Gri;nyr spoke, getting himself comfortable. "It will be ready when the One will arrive."

He sighed as the stone glowed once more. And the lid was slowly retracting into place to seal him inside.

"My life fades." Gri'nyr whispered. "The progenitor calls."

He rested his head back, shutting his eyes.

"My sons... My love." he whispered. "I join you now."

The stone lid of the sarcophagus slid shut, sealing Gri'nyr inside. The stone glowed more brighter as it secured a tight and impenetrable seal. When the light faded, Aegis swooped back down. He landed on the sarcophagus before rapping it with his beak. He then reared his head up and gave a long mournful call that might have echoed throughout the entire temple.

Marking the passing of his master.


	25. Chapter 24

HEY EVERYONE!

I'm so sorry for making you all wait but my standards are ridiculous when it comes to the story, like how I think of games 'Graphics don't mean shit if the story is good'. I'll be posting the beta'ed version at a later date.

But anyway, in this chapter, Alaric escapes from the hive, accepting his heritage to an extant, gaining some more help and getting a firsthand look at to what the Primarch...but will he survive it's influence?

Also, in regards to the little contest I have posted, two spots are now taken. Teshy, whom I will give credit for his answer, and Dakkaman777, for correctly guessing the most obvious reference. three spots are left and if you correctly guess a reference, of which some in this chapter should be easy to guess, you will be included into the story for a rather kickass fight scene. I won't spoil it but lets just say it's an iconic scene from one of the alien films.

So, without further due, read away

* * *

><p>Chapter 24- Titan<p>

Alaric awoke from his coma, from the visions within his mind, with a loud gasp that echoed throughout the entire crypt as the blue flames in his eyes died out. He immediately and frantically shot up onto his knees, landing on one outstretched hand as he panted in rapid beats, cold sweat dripping from his face, his other hand on his heart. His cloak furled around him, catching his attention. Breathing hard and raggedly, he looked around with darting eyes and much to his relief he was right where he had passed out.

Back in the tomb.

Alaric patted himself, feeling his weapons on his person, sighing in relief that he was in one piece and back in the real world. His head still throbbed but not as badly as what he had just been through. He sat back down with a metallic thunk, wiping the cold sweat from his face, smudging off what was left of his face paint.

"My god!" Alaric sighed. "What a rush."

He held his head, trying to make sense of what he had seen as his eyes darted from side to side in thought. This was something that Alaric could not have comprehended. And what is more, he felt it deep inside him.

Right in his very soul.

"What does this mean?" he questioned himself. "Was my whole life... misguided? A lie?" he then thought of a missing link. "The missing page." he realised.

Did that missing fragment from the tome contain the truth?

Alaric at that point could hear the tapping of talons next to him. He looked to the source and he saw the hawk looking up at him. The hawk's silver plumage shone in the dark, with the scar on it's breast a fraction duller then the rest.

Alaric quickly realised that this hawk was the same as the one in the memories. And the same as mentioned in his tome.

"Aegis." Alaric said. "The Shield-Hawk."

He lowered his hands, reaching one over for the hawk. The hawk hopped over to him and jumped on his outstretched arm. Alaric looked to his right. Towards the body of Dionekes sat against the pillar. Alaric shifted over towards the dead spartan.

"I was right." Alaric said, kneeling next to Dionekes. "This is my ancestor."

"Your maternal ancestor." Gri'nyr's voice clarified.

Alaric looked up and sure enough, Gri'nyr's spirit was there, kneeling next to him. His mask was gone and Alaric could see his ruby red eyes shining on his misty apparition.

"Are you okay?" Gri'nyr asked.

Alaric lowered his arm as Aegis hopped onto his shoulder.

"I... felt it." Alaric answered.

"Then you truly are one of our bloodline." Gri'nyr praised, getting to his feet. "I understand that it will take time to come to terms with your past."

"Come to terms?" Alaric questioned, getting to his feet. "I don't think I'll ever get it out of my head."

"You won't." Gri'nyr clarified. "It'll be a part of you for eternity."

Alaric rubbed his face as Gri'nyr walked off further into the tomb.

"How long was I out?" he asked, bending down to pick up his helmet.

"Oh, only about a minute." Gri'nyr answered. "Nothing has changed much since you were... indisposed.". He held a hand to an ear. "For example, listen to the silence."

Gri'nyr was right. There was complete silence. There wasn't the sound of an entire hive of xenomorphs trying to claw their way through the stone doors. The only sounds to be heard was the sound of Alaric's footfalls as he shifted on his feet.

"They've gone?" Alaric said. "I find that hard to believe."

"Most likely they're waiting for you to open the door." Gri'nyr postulated. "Though they're in for a nasty surprise with your new armour and weapons."

Alaric scratched his ornamented hair, unused from having so much jewellery in it before a thought popped in his head.

"Why... why would your fellow yautja turn against you?" Alaric asked. "Even with those primarchs on the loose?"

"Many reasons." Gri'nyr sighed, walking up to the sarcophagus. "But perhaps the most prevalent is because we were very different. And many are afraid of anything different because they do not, or choose not to, understand. As shown in many races, if you are different, others will be fearful and try to drive you away or kill you." He turned to Alaric. "And Xel'khala were the worst, as you had just seen." he finished.

"Tell me about." Alaric said in agreement. "They make Nazis look like pacifists by comparison."

Gri'nyr raised a brow.

"Nat-zis?" he questioned, evidently perplexed by the name. "What are Nat-zis?"

"Originally German Master Race nuts from the 20th century." Alaric explained, with barely disguised disgust. "Led by a bastard with a stupid moustache who wasn't technically German and had none of the 'Master Race' traits to boot. Ended up shooting himself when things didn't go to plan."

Gri'nyr chuckled in irony.

"Always the way isn't it?" he mused before he got serious. "But, you have much to do now."

"Yeah, I gotta get back to colony." Alaric agreed.

"More then that. The Primarch has to be slain." Gri'nyr revealed. "The Ossians' mistake has to be eliminated before it can spread from this world."

Alaric rolled his eyes at the name.

"There you go again." he pointed out with barely disguised annoyance. "Who or what are these Ossians you so constantly bring up?"

Gri'nyr turned from Alaric.

"What does it matter?" he questioned. "They were in the distant past, destroyed by their own arrogance."

It was apparent that Gri'nyr was deliberately avoiding the question. Alaric was going to get his answer here and now.

"But WHO were they?" Alaric demanded. "Does it have to do with The Derelict on LV-426, thirty nine light years from Earth?"

Gri'nyr paused at the mention of the ship in question. It was apparent that Gri'nyr did know of the ship, though whether he knew first-hand or was informed after wasn't known. But as Alaric surmised from his reaction, Gri'nyr knew how the ship ended up on that desolate moon.

Was it possible that his clan was the reason why the Derelict ended up on that moon in the first place? It was a long debate about why the Derelict ended up on LV-426, with the most likely explanation was that the xenomorphs on that ship had got loose and brought the ship down. And now, Alaric learned that these Ossians were in fact their creators. But as for the ships intended purpose, that was never found out... yet.

"That rung a bell didn't it?" Alaric guessed. "You know, don't you?"

Gri'nyr turned back to Alaric, his eyes flickering in response to Alaric's conclusion.

"Trying to tell the truth of the Ossians will take too much time but I will give you a basic view." Gri'nyr relented, hopping onto the sarcophagus and sitting down.

Even as a ghost, so to speak, he acted like he was still alive.

"The Ossians were, and still are, a hyper-advanced race, one of the first elder races. Masters of bioengineering, predominately for their own ends." Gri'nyr explained. "They strove for eons to create the ultimate life form. The perfect slaves to cement their dominion over the entire galaxy. A lifeform that could adapt and thrive in any environment, with an unmatched will to survive and endure. But, as nature proves time and again, life cannot be controlled."

"Finally, some information." Alaric praised sardonically making a 'praise the heavens' gesture. "How could they create this perfect life form, billions of years ago?"

"They seeded worlds in their infancy, using their own DNA as a basis." Gri'nyr answered.

Alaric took that answer in and he was quickly puzzled from it. The Ossians seeded planets with their own DNA?

"Wait, you mean they... cloned themselves?" Alaric asked "In that case, why aren't they still here in this day?"

Gri'nyr shook his head.

"They didn't 'clone' themselves." Gri'nyr corrected. "Rather they seeded worlds with the first micro-organisms, created from their own DNA and adapted to that planet's ecosystem, and then proceeded from there, ushering the evolving life as they intend. Millions of years is but an eye blink to the Ossians." he sighed. "But that life has to come from somewhere. Usually, one Ossian is sacrificed, broken down molecule by molecule, to provide the push forward."

Alaric took that information in. Sacrificing one of their own to provide the genetic material to work with. That seemed to suggest that the Ossians believed that the ends justifies the means.

"Why their own DNA?" Alaric asked next. "What do they achieve from sacrificing one of their own?"

"This method was to ensure that the resulting organisms would feel an inherent... link with the Ossians. Something to make them easier to control, like a parent to a small child in a manner of speaking." Gri'nyr clarified. "And it was that which would prove to be their downfall."

Gri'nyr sighed as he remembered what he knew.

"After many failed experiments and extinction events to wipe the slates clean, the Primarchs were created, the progenitors of the creatures you now call xenomorphs." Gri'nyr revealed. "But, much like their previous creation, whom were to be purged by their successors, the Primarchs could not be controlled. Rather then being unpredictable, they were only feigning obedience, biding their time from when the Ossians were most vulnerable. By the time the Ossians realised their folly, their fate was already sealed. Their entire race were consumed and from their destruction, the Primarchs started to spread."

He then perked up in a manner to get things going again.

"Which brings us to the present." Gri;nyr concluded, hopping off the sarcophagus. "Now, can we please leave?"

Alaric wasn't convinced that Gri'nyr told him everything. There was something that he didn't explain.

"Wait a second, I haven't finished" Alaric pointed out, walking up to Gri'nyr.

"There is nothing more to talk about." Gri'nyr urged, walking past Alaric.

That wasn't going to stop Alaric.

"What does this mean about humans?" Alaric questioned bluntly. "That bastard said humans were a 'failed experiment'?"

Gri'nyr paused in mid-step, turning to Alaric.

"That is something best left for another time." Gri'nyr stated firmly, turning his back to Alaric to further his point. "This is hardly the place to go that far. I don't think you could handle the truth at this time."

"Oh come on, with all shit you just pushed in my head, what damage is that going to do?" Alaric playfully protested.

Gri'nyr at that point suddenly materialised right in front of Alaric, face to face with barely an inch between them. It was enough to make Alaric shut up and back off a step or two but Gri'nyr followed his movements.

"Trust me. You WON'T" Gri'nyr clarified firmly, his eyes flashing crimson.

His eyes then dimmed as he stepped backwards, looking around like he had just noticed something. Alaric regained his composure as Gri'nyr resumed his attentions to him.

"You must hurry now." Gri'nyr finally said. "The Primarch is close to escaping this prison."

Alaric put his helmet on, having decided not to press further for information aftar Gri'nyr's insistance, sealing it into place and the lenses glowed blue.

"How can you tell?" he asked, his voice synthesised by his helmet's audio systems.

"I can sense it's soul." Gri'nyr revealed. "Like a flame of darkness that burns away light. And in time you will be able to sense it."

Alaric looked around for anything out of the ordinary. Such as the stone structure shaking or any other weird things to give notion of the primarch escaping. There was nothing.

"I don't notice anything." he pointed out.

"You won't. Not at first, you need to be taught." Gri'nyr clarified. "And I advise you not to face the Primarch just yet. You need to be properly prepared for it." he then bowed to Alaric in farewell. "I must take my leave now. And you must make yours."

"Where will you be?" Alaric asked.

"I will always be wherever you needed guidance." Gri'nyr reminded. "In your dreams."

And with that, Gri'nyr vanished like mist in the morning sun, leaving no trace of himself behind. Alaric was now on his own.

Alaric sighed as he thought for a moment and then looked to Aegis.

"Aegis, it's time to go." Alaric declared.

Aegis flew up to Alaric and landed on his shoulder. Aegis reached for the dory on his hip, held it out and the dory armed, extending to it's full length and lightning surged around it before dimming. Alaric gave the body of Dionekes one last bow of the head in farewell, promising to avenge his death and those of his spartan brothers. Alaric strode up to the doors of the tomb, pausing when he reached them. Looking up at the doors, Alaric took a breath.

"Well, here goes nothing." Alaric said, holding the dory with his shield hand and pressing his free hand against the imprint.

The stone inlays around his hand glowed blue as the light spread throughout the stone doors as before. The stone split apart in the middle and the doors started to slowly grind open, revealing the glowing channels within. Alaric drew his hand back as braced his shield in front and hefted his spear forward, ready for any xenomorph to pounce at him. Aegis sat on his shoulder, feathers glowing as he prepared to sally forth on Alaric's command.

As soon as the doors opened up a foot or so, Alaric nodded and Aegis soared through the gap, his pulamge shining brightly, to guide Alaric and to smite any xenomorphs in wait.

The stone doors soon opened enough for Alaric to step through and he cautiously stepped out, shield up and and spear ready. Looking in all directions with the helmet's enhanced vision, Alaric couldn't see any xenomorphs in hiding. But he wasn't going to let his guard down just yet. He quickly sealed the door back up, to preserve Dionekes' body from the encroaching hive.

Alaric continued to moved down the tunnel at a steady pace as the stone doors grind shut, circling around in case there were any coming from behind. He was able to reach the end of the tunnel quicker then he thought. In the vast hall there was nothing. No xenomorphs waiting to pounce on him here. But then Alaric wasn't going to rest until he checked every nook and cranny. Xenomorphs are notorious for adapting to their environment.

It was only after Alaric meticulously searched the entire hall that he lowered his spear. Aegis swooped back down to Alaric and landed on his shoulder.

"They're gone." Alaric praised before something more dire popped in his head. "The colony!"

That would be the only reason why the xenomorphs would leave him be. Going after a more exposed target not protected by massive stone doors. A target that would get them off this world to infest others And that meant that they had a head start.

Alaric looked to Aegis on his shoulder.

"Lead me to an exit." he ordered. "And make it snappy."

Aegis nodded, spread his wings and jumped off Alaric's shoulder as he retracted his dory and holstered it on his hip. Aegis' feathers flashed into life, providing the beacon for which to guide Alaric as he soared high into the air. Alaric briskly ran as Aegis flew down the high corridor, back into the temple complex.

* * *

><p>Alaric could only rely on Aegis to lead the way. And along the way, he suddenly had a thought. And it had to do with the Stone.<p>

The way that object killed, in a manner of speaking was something that Alaric had never imagined could exist or even thought to exist. A weapon that could tear a soul from it's body and empower the one who uses it. This was something that Alaric had only heard about in fantasy fiction he had read in rare times of R&R. Alaric had to wonder what other fantastical things could be actual truth.

Alaric had speak to Gri'nyr again and, if what he said was true, Gri'nyr was within the armour. Or his consciousness to be more precise.

"Gri'nyr." Alaric called as he zipped round a corner.

There was no answer. Alaric paused for a second before trying again.

"Gri'nyr, I know you can hear me." he said, darting down a flight of stairs. "There something that I need to ask you."

It was a moment before he got an answer.

"Yes?" Gri'nyr's voice asked within Alaric's helmet.

"Something is concerning me." Alaric revealed reaching the bottom of the stairs. "Considering the fact that you were a bona fide badass, why did you need such an... object like that stone?"

"It was the only thing that can kill a Primarch." Gri'nyr simply explained as Alaric followed Aegis down the hall and into another tunnel. "Another thing that the Ossians foolishly bestowed on the Primarchs was a variant of immortality. To make sure that their 'perfect' servants never expire."

Alaric skidded to a halt, crushing hive webbing under his feet with a loud continuous crunch. Aegis banked sharply when he heard Alaric stopping, pulling a tight curve and fluttering to a stop on a hanging hive tendril.

"Wait, you mean these primarchs can't be killed?" Alaric asked.

"They can be killed but it's making them stay dead that's the problem." Gri'nyr clarified. "They have to be killed properly."

Alaric slumped his shoulders as he sense another long bout of explanation coming.

"This is going to be long and informative, isn't it?" Alaric sighed.

"Depends if you want the long version." Gri'nyr quipped.

Alaric leant against the hive encroached wall, stabbing his spear butt-spike into the floor and it stayed up as he crossed his arm into his sheild.

"Well, why are the primarchs hard to kill?" Alaric asked, short and to the point.

"If a Primarch is slain, it's essence, it's very soul, would simply find a new form in one of it's kin, through the Hive-Mind that links them all." Gri'nyr explained, making his answer not so short but to the point. "In this capacity it is virtually immortal. Killing every single one of the Primarch's kin is the most bloody way to fight it as it would not have a vessel to channel to."

Gri'nyr paused for a moment to allow Alaric to process this information.

"But if it is slain by the Stone or the scythe, it's soul is simply... burnt out." Gri'nyr continued "The Stone was our best chance of containing it so it can be properly destroyed. The rest of it's kin would simply die off afterwards once it was killed."

"Why not the sycthe?" Alaric asked. "You were adept at using it."

Gri'nyr's apparition appeared in front of Alaric, maskless and leaning against the wall opposite Alaric with reluctance on his face.

"I... lacked the power." Gri'nyr admitted simply. "None has been able to destroy a soul with or without the scythe since our progenitor left."

"Lacked the power?"Alaric questioned with a hint of disbelief. "You made mincemeat out of anything in your path."

"Killing their physical forms, yes." Gri'nyr corrected. "But a soul cannot be harmed through physical means without the right training and knowledge."

"And if you don't have the power?" Alaric questioned.

"Then a sacrifice has to be made." Gri'nyr revealed, rather ominously.

It was enough to invoke the image of Xel'khalos burning out that spartan's soul, still lingering in the depths of his mind. What would it take to get such power, aside from the Stone? Alaric wasn't sure if he wanted to know but needs must. Especially if he had the misfortune of facing some like that.

"Which entails...?" Alaric hesitantly asked.

"To kill a soul, one must drive all compassion, all feelings from their own soul, literally." Gri'nyr revealed. " And such a massive change to one's self is permanent, becoming cold and unsympathetic towards all that you once held dear. Becoming soulless in a twist of irony. A trait that bastard took pride in."

Alaric remembered how Xel'khalos killed with no remorse. Did he sacrifice his compassion fro that power or maybe he simply lacked that emotion to begin with? He had put his money on the latter.

"But there is a difference in killing for the good of all and killing for one's own gratification." Gri'nyr clarified "We never make the decision to kill a soul lightly. A soul is something that cannot be replaced once destroyed."

Alaric went over that in his mind. Considering what he had seen in Gri'nyr's memories, he had to take this with consideration. Especially since this was starting to delve into a somewhat... occult state of mind.

"So killing souls is basically the end? That's it, no second chances, no reincarnation?" Alaric concluded.

"Unless a fragment is stored some place else, yes it is the end." Gri'nyr confirmed. "Which is why primarchs are so hard to kill. Each of it's kin is a potential vessel for a shard of it's soul. Much in the same way that we bear a shard of our progenitor." Gri'nyr added, before gesturing onwards to where Aegis was leading Alaric. "But enough of this informative banter, onward you go."

And with that, Gri'nyr promptly faded from sight as swiftly as he had appeared. Alaric muttered under his breath as he turned back to Aegis.

"Well, where were we?" he asked, reaching for his spear and yanking it out of the webbed floor.

Aegis flapped his wings and flew off down the corridoor with Alaric in pursuit.

* * *

><p>After several more minutes of running through the hive, and not seeing one xenomorph pop out to challenge him, Alaric suddenly skidded to a halt in a small chamber, causing Aegis to veer sharply back to him. Alaric took a few steps backwards and looked to his left as Aegis landed on his shoulder.<p>

"Hold up, I thought I saw something in there." he said, pointing with his spear.

Leaning forward a bit, Alaric saw it again. A glint of light shining from within a narrow tunnel. He had almost missed it in his haste to leave. Alaric now need to ascertain what kind of glint it was. And it didn't take him long to determine the source.

"Wait a second." Alaric said. "Is that what I think it is?"

The glint in question was metallic. And that meant one thing: potential salvage.

Alaric turned to Aegis.

"Wait here a minute." Alaric ordered. "I think i found something useful."

Aegis hopped of his shoulder and perched on a tendril next to the tunnel, keeping watch. Alaric retracted his spear and holstered it as he walked up to the tunnel. Upon closer inspection, the tunnel invoke the mindset of a maintenance tunnel, considering he would have to crouch low in order to enter.

Alaric crouched as low as he could and carefully made his way down the tunnel, shield up to act as a mobile wall between him and anything hostile. A lesson he learned the hard way on many a mission involving xenomorphs. He drew the kopis out of it's scabbard and held it blade forward, ready to stab anything that would come at him.

However as he got closer, and as his helmet adjusted to the dark, Alaric soon found that there was no threat as he reached the source of the glint at the far end of the tunnel

Alaric had, much to his surprise, found a dwarf. Or what was left of one, sitting against the stone wall and subsisded in hive webbing. Alaric would have missed it werer it not for the visor reflecting what light there was in the hive above him as the tunnel ended with a vertical shaft.

Alaric shifted towards the dead dwarf, sheathing his kopis and kneeling in front of the body to get a better look at it. He reached out and plucked webbing from the body to determine cause of death. He was soon answered by the disturbingly clean hole in the dwarf's chest. A disruptor wound. And the more webbing Alaric peeled away, the more damage Alaric found. The dwarf's armour was battered and rended, be it from claws, beatings or impacts from projectiles. But in the manner of degradation, be it corrosion or from the extreme cold, there was virtually none.

It looked as if the dwarf had been mortally wounded during the battle but had somehow had managed to escape to find a refuge and inevitably died from his wounds. A more merciful fate then what his fellows had suffered.

And he still had his weapons. A gauss rifle was across his lap and on his belt was a long bladed hand axe that looked like it could attach to the gauss rifle as a bayonet. Other things included octagonal grenades, spare magazines and a gauss pistol.

Alaric, out of curiosity, lifted the visor and he was surprised by what he saw. Expecting to see a mummified corpse, he was looking at what would possibly be a statue. The dwarf, eyes shut like he was sleeping, was made of stone. And gentle tapping on the dwarfs face confirmed his suspicion when he heard a dense rapping. Even the beard had turned to stone, creating what look liked very fine forest of stalactites. Alaric refrained from touching the stone beard, guessing that it would be very fragile. Not to mention desecrating to the dwarf.

"No wonder they called them Stone-Kin." Alaric said. "Completely fossilised."

He had to wonder if this was how Dwarves really died? Or did they fight a Gorgon by chance?

Considering what he saw in the memories, cyclopses and manticores especially, Alaric took that possibility into account. He would have to see one for himself though.

Alaric looked down to the gauss rifle on the dwarf's lap, seeing that the dwarfs hand were resting on it. Removing the weapon was going to be a problem on account that he couldn't move the dwarf's hands if it had indeed turned to stone.

Grasping the weapon firmly by it's carry handle running along the top, Alaric carefully wiggled it around to ascertain how much leeway it had. He was pleased when he found that the dwarf had died in a way that his weapons able to be retrieved. Even so, he was considerate to be careful and not potentially damage the dead. The rifle slid out with some scraping and Alaric held it in his hands.

The gauss rifle, aside from some faint scratches on it's casing and marks from the hive webbing, was in pristene condition with very little corrosion or other degredation. Alaric grasped it on the pistol grip and firmly held it to his shoulder, getting the feel of it. And he was surprised at how familier it felt.

"Feels just like a pulse rifle." Alaric said in amazement, looking down the iron sights. "Handles like a pulse rifle. And looks a bit like a pulse rifle too."

He had to think that the similer design was a coincedence.

Alaric found what looked like the safety catch, where his thumb could manipulate it. He flicked it with his thumb and in an instant, the weapon hummed into life. Cuiruitry glowed and he could hear it charge up, ready to fire.

"And it still works!" Alaric said in amazement, looking at the stock.

It appeared that the gauss rifle was a bullpup configuration as he saw what looked lke the bottom of a magazine of ammunition at the bottom. Alaric extracted the box magazine, located completely within the stock, and looked at it. He found that the amunnition, still in pristine condition, was arranged very much like conventional bullets in a stacked manner. The rounds themselves were comparible in size to 7.62mm ammunition used in marine corps battle rifles. They were about an inch long and were inscribed with a myriad network of runic patterns.

Alaric slammed the magazine back and after some more examination, he found the cocking handle located on top of the rifle above the trigger, again like a pulse rifle. He pulled it back firmly, heard the round enter the breech, and let go. The breech snapped shut and the round was now locked and loaded in the chamber with a buzz of power. And it was there, much to his surprise, he saw an ammunition counter located at the base of the rear sight. The numbers were depicted in dwarven runic script but Alaric quickly saw that the ammo count was reading in the hundreds. Considering that there was no need for a casing with propellant, the number of rounds in a magazine could be increased exponentially.

Alaric placed the rifle down on the ground and he delicately retrieved the dwarf's other weaponry. He pulled out the pistol and, much to his surprise, saw that it was reminiscent of a magnum revolver. Albeit a very advanced and intimidating one. Whether or not this was a standard dwarf pistol or if it was this dwarf's personal preference, Alaric didn't know. Alaric then recovered the hand grenades, which from their patterned surface were most likely fragmentation grenades. And Alaric surmised that they would inflict a rather nasty amount of damage if one gets caught in the blast. And lastly he retrieved the bayonet axe, that looked somewhat reminiscent of a Viking bearded axe, only the beard pointed upwards rather then down.

Concluding he had salvaged all he could, Alaric bundled them in his arm and then shifted his way out of the tunnel. Upon getting out, laid out what he had found on the dwarf. His first assumption was to test fire them to see if they were still capable of firing. He decided to only fire the gauss rifle seeing that had more then enough ammunition to warrant a test fire. But before he did so, he locked the bayonet axe underneath where he thought the grenade launcher was, locking it into place.

Hefting the rifle up, Alaric looked for a suitable target to test the rifle on. He soon noticed a patch of webbing on a pillar a few metres from from, a large circular patch that screamed 'TARGET!'. In fact, it even had the rings to prove it.

Alaric aimed the rifle at pillar, tight under his arm. His helmet's HUD, upon sensing that Alaric was using a projectile weapon, projected a cross-hair that followed the movement of Alaric's eyes and an indicator of where the rifle was pointing. After lining up the shot, Alaric fired. A loud static crack and blue muzzle flash filled the darkness and immediately, faster then Alaric could even think to blink, a large chunk of the hive encroached pillar, along with the target webbing, was blown off in a shower of dust, gravel and shreds of webbing.

Alaric's eye were wide behind his visor as he looked at the gauss rifle, making sure he did squeeze the right trigger. He had indeed fired a standard round, not a grenade.

Suffice to say, seeing it firsthand, the gauss rifle made the small projectiles hit with the force of a .50 calibre heavy machinegun round, possibly even higher. The recoil was only like that of conventional rifles, maybe even less. And the fact that it had spent the last two millennia without maintenance made it even more amazing. Alaric was wondering what other weapons the dwarves had created.

The pistol would be very much like Razeal, firing a high calibre magnum round. Though he had to wonder, considering what the gauss rifle did, how much damage that pistol could inflict. But, he didn't waste to waste any more ammo to find out.

As soon as the amazement subsided, Alaric had another more pressing matter in his mind.

The Primarch.

He had to know what he was up against.

Alaric found that the dwarven weapons just attached themselves magnetically to his armour, which he did so in easy to reach places. He retracted his dory and holstered it so he could brandish the gauss rifle instead. He placed the revolver on his chest opposite Razeal and placed the grenades on his belt

Alaric hefted the gauss rifle onto his shoulder and looked to Aegis.

"Aegis, there is one thing I have to do before we leave." he told the hawk.

Aegis looked up to him, wondering what on earth Alaric needed to do when escape is his priority, which had been so urgently mentioned many times.

"I need to know what this Primarch looks like." Alaric revealed. "Can you lead me to where it is?"

Aegis stood straight on his perch in a manner that spoke of reluctance and almost fear. Alaric could tell that he was thinking 'Are you crazy?!'.

"I'd rather see what I'm up against while it's still trapped... somewhat." Alaric reasoned. "Better do it now rather then wait for it to escape."

Aegis looked down the corridor, no doubt the way to the exit he was leading Alaric to. He then looked into space in thought before, considering Alaric's logic, he nodded reluctantly. Aegis flapped his wings and hovered for a moment before flying back into the hive with Alaric following closely.

* * *

><p>"Well, fat chance of shutting the doors." Alaric shrugged, pointing a finger at said doors.<p>

Aegis had led Alaric into a vast hall, lined with hive encroached statues, and at the end of this hall was a massve set of open stone doors. And the doors were completey clogged up with hive webbing and an intricate system of tendrils that acted as anchors to keep the door from sealing.

It would appear that the xenomorphs were making sure that the primarch couldn't be imprisoned once more.

And beyond the doors was darkness. Darkness from which no light seemed to illmuninate. Darkness that was the heart of the infestation on this planet.

Alaric looked around, remembering what he had seen in Gri'nyr's memory. He could make out the ledge from where Xel'khalos revealed himself. And where Gri'nyr and his brothers stood as the severed heads of his sons were thrown back to their father. In fact, when Alaric scraped the webbing from the floor with his boot, he could make out the faint bloodstains from there the heads landed.

Alaric could feel it in his soul what happened here millennia ago.

Alaric turned back to Aegis who was perched on a tendril by the door. He was looking uneasy from being this close to the primarch's cell.

"It's in there, isn't it?" Alaric guessed, pointing the gauss rifle towards the void in the chamber.

Aegis nodded from his perch. Alaric took a breath as he formulated his next course of action.

"Right." Alaric said, kneeling down to the hawk. "Aegis, stay out here and keep an eye out. I won't be long."

He then unlatched the shield from his arm, the armband retracting and the socket unlatching from his gauntlet. He then propped it next to Aegis and let go of the grip. He then held the gauss rifle to shoulder in true marine fashion. He figured, from the amount of webbing that was spreading from the chamber that his shield would be more of a hindrance.

Aegis shuffled closer to Alaric. Alaric looked down to the hawk and he could see that Aegis was very fearful with him going into the chamber.

"I'll be fine." Alaric assured. "Just a quick peek and then I'll be right out."

Alaric looked to the darkness of the chamber, Aegis watching him descend into the dark.

"Okay." Alaric said, marching forth into the darkness. "Time to see what all the fuss is about."

He was immediately answered by a large tendril to the head with a loud crunch. Alaric backed off the moment he felt it crack against his armoured brow, expecting a praetorian xenomorph to pounce on him.

"Oh, for god sake!" Alaric quietly cursed, ducking under the tendril and being confronted by more tendrils. "Are there enough tendrils here!?"

Alaric cautiously navigated his way through the pitch black labyrinth of tendrils, negotiating his way as quietly as he could. It was a smart decision to leave the shield back with Aegis as it's size would have made it cumbersome in such tight quarters. He kept the gauss rifle pointed ahead of him, both to cut the looser tendrils away with the bayonet and to blast any xenomorph ready to pounce on him.

Alaric noticed that as soon as he made a dozen meters or so, the floor was starting to slope downwards. This was causing more problems for Alaric as he had to manoeuvre through the ever increasing amount of tendrils, the webbing on the floor affecting his footing and now he had a sloping elevation to contend with.

"No downward slope is gonna get the drop on me." Alaric vowed in determination.

Cue the ironic twist of fate.

When Alaric made another few metres, his footing suddenly dropped over a sudden edge and he slipped on the webbing covered floor. He landed with an loud crunch on his back before his forward momentum pulled him over the edge. He lashed out with his free hand and grabbed a hold of a hanging tendril. His body swung hard out into the darkness and Alaric feared that the tendril wouldn't hold. Luckily, he swung back into the stone ledge with a loud crunch of armour against webbed stone and he immediately threw his other arm over the edge, the gauss rifle's bayonet digging into the webbed stone, acting as a makeshift anchor point. Alaric dug his feet into the stonework wall and heaved himself up, tearing up the webbing as he pulled. He didn't stop scrabbling until he had gotten several feet away from the edge and skidded to his knees.

"Christ, someone can get killed in here!" Alaric exclaimed in a hushed tone.

He looked at the gauss rifle that had been caked in webbing before brushing it clean. He then cautiously edged his way back to where he had slipped for a more careful look, keeping his centre of gravity low. And he soon saw what it was he had nearly fell down.

Alaric had almost slipped down into a massive sunken area, not unlike the ancient Colosseum of Rome. An area from which the darkness was the most strongest. It was... unnatural. And above all else, he could definitely hear something down here, alive in the dark.

A low deep rumbling of breath.

Can't see a bloody thing, Alaric thought before he remembered something. Let's see what my helmet can see.

Alaric subconsciously willed the Corinthian helmet to cycle through any spectrum available. And it did, cycling in through multiple spectrums rapidly, ranging from the traditional infra-red, night-vision to other spectrums that Alaric never seen before.

What Alaric saw in the darkness, as soon as his helmet's visions cycled to the correct wavelength, was a giant monolithic shape hidden in the hive webbing. A shape that was definitely xenomorph in shape.

"By my ancestors." Alaric gasped in a faint whisper, his hands tightening on the gauss rifle and shuffling an inch or two backwards.

It was the Primarch.

From what he could make out, this xenomorph was far bigger then any xenomorph he had seen. He had even seen a queen mother up close, fighting it of course, but this primarch made them look feeble by comparison. If you were to place a queen mother next to this primarch, she would like a lowly drone in comparison. Alaric had surmised that this primarch must have been roughly a hundred feet in height. But then again, Alaric could make out that this primarch was in a crouched position so it could be potentially larger.

Features that he could made out showed how ancient this xenomorph was, is what looked like a set of truly gigantic chitinous wings, curled on its back. Another was the fact that some kind of energy seemed to pulsate within it, casting eerie eldritch glows of green and purple to the immediate hive surroundings. One could only imaging what power was coursing within this primarch. And given how these xenomorphs reproduced, transforming their victims, Alaric was inclined to think anything was possible.

If xenomorphs were created to be the ultimate life form, there was no telling what this primarch, one of the xenomorphs' progenitors, was capable of.

And, even from looking at this gargantuan creature from a time long past, Alaric was being filed with an unnerving feeling of dread. A feeling that seemed to be bleeding right into own soul. Almost like it was sapping out his sanity from the mere sight. His head started to throb but he fought against it, resisting what was trying to encroach on his mind.

I don't like this, Alaric thought as the throbbing was getting more intense by the second.

And sure enough he was starting to hear faint whispers in his mind. Whispers that were completely alien to him. And the whispers were slowly getting louder, trying to find purchase in his mind and robbing his ability to think straight. And this was enough to make Alaric... fearful.

Where these the whispers that the miner spoke of?

Alaric quickly decided at that point to vacate the area before it caught notice of him, the whispers growing louder and louder. He swiftly and nimbly paced through the hive webbing back toward the gate, retracing his steps as best as he could. Eventually however, the whispers where getting so loud and intrusive, not to mention painful, that Alaric broke into a sprint, smashing his way through the tendrils with frenzied swipes from his gauss rifle. He didn't care if it attracted any praetorians, he wanted to get away from those whispers quickly before they drove him mad. In fact, he was starting to physically feel it tugging his head, causing warm tears to form in his eyes in response.

Get out of my head! Alaric strained in his mind, pile-driving through a thick tendril.

Alaric, much to his relief, could feel his head getting clearer, the whispers dying down to nothingness as he exited the void of the chamber, trailing webbing and tendrils behind him. He skidded next to Aegis who had not moved from his perch and was surprised and concerned to see Alaric covered in shreds of webbing. Alaric sat himself down next to the hawk, dumped the gauss rifle by his feet and it was there he could finally let it out.

"Good god!" Alaric finally gasped, holding his head in shock. "That was so stupid!"

He frantically removed his helmet, the seal hissing and he hefted it off, clattering to the floor and revealing a sweating face and wide eyes, from which, to Aegis' deep concern, blood seeped out of like tears. Alaric looked like he was bearing on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"What the fuck was that thing doing to my mind?!" Alaric questioned, wiping his eyes and face.

Alaric was a bit shocked when he found he was wiping bloody tears from his eyes. It would seem that tearing into his mind was literally true. He wouldn't be surprised if he blew bits of his brain out if he sneezed. In fact, he resisted the urge that suddenly cropped up, actually clamping his nose shut and holding the sneeze in. He then sniffed and sure enough, he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

He looked to Aegis who was watching him with more concern. Alaric blinked more blood from his eyes and blew his nose of bloody phlegm, much to the hawk's disgust.

"That fucking thing will give even Cthulhu a run for his money!" Alaric said, wiping the cold blood off his face with a cloak edge.

Aegis cocked his head at the name. Alaric muttered under his breath as he cleaned his face.

"Never mind, I'll tell you later." Alaric said, reaching for his helmet and waving his free hand.

He quickly composed himself, literally slapping some composure into his head, before planting his helmet back on. After he had secured it, he reached over to his shield, linking his arm in the socket. The shield's armbands encircled his arm and locked into place before he hefted it up.

"Right, back to the exit." Alaric urgently decided, picking up the gauss rifle before looking back to Aegis. "I've seen all I needed to see."

Aegis nodded in agreement and jumped off the tendril, spreading his wings and soaring off with Alaric in hot pursuit.

* * *

><p>It took some time for Aegis to navigate their way through the temple on account of the hive blocking off some routes and in some places where the temple had collapsed from either the hive or the battle that once raged here thousands of years ago. Now, Alaric found himself climbing up a narrow flight of hive encroached stairs.<p>

Aegis was hopping along, nimbly navigating his way up, using his smaller size to his advantage. Alaric however was resorting to shoving his way through the webbing, using one of his hand axes to hack a path. He had his shield slung over his back for added room to move, magnetically attached just like the others.

And the passage upwards was getting tighter and tighter.

"When I said lead me to an exit, I meant one that I could get through!" Alaric fumed, shoving his way through a dense patch with a loud crunch.

He could hear his shield scraping against the stone walls as he moved, making a cringing metallic screech cry out whenever it made contact with stone.. He was concerned that he would have to ditch it before he got stuck. And sure enough he did get caught in a particularly dense patch of webbing.

"Bastard!" Alaric cursed, butting himself against it to try and loosen the webbing.

The webbing crunched loudly against his onslaught and after a few bashes, Alaric smashed through the hole he made in a shower of webbing strands. The tight confines now made using his axe useless so he holstered it before looking for Aegis. But, not to his surprise, the hawk was nowhere to be seen.

"Where have you gone?" Alaric called before he came up against another blockage "This better be the last plug!"

Alaric punched out one arm through the barrier with a loud crunch, surprised that it was not that thick, and scrambled for a hold. His hand soon caught a firm grip on what felt like some stone protrusions. Oddly, they felt like banisters.

And that spelt one thing: the end of the staircase.

Alaric, spurred on by this sudden realisation, heaved himself up through the hive webbing with loud frozen cracks and crunches, trailing it behind him like an insect leaving it's cocoon, and he was greeted by a thick mist and the firm wafting of wind. Looking around he could see that he finally reached the end on his bogged down ascent. And he was now on the highest most position of the temple prison, at the base of the spire that usually tops a yautja temple.

"Freedom!" Alaric praised before hauling himself, dragging his hive encroached body up and out.

He got on his knees panting from the exertion, turned around and then stuck his head back into the hole.

"In your face, Hive!" he shouted in triumph, his voice echoing in the webbed confines.

He then got to his feet as Aegis hopped over. Alaric took note of him before resuming the next phase of his strategy.

"Okay, we're out of the hive." Alaric said before looking around. "Now, to get back to the colony."

He looked around the cavern to get his bearings and to ascertain how to proceed.

"But 'how' is the question." he finished.

In the distance right ahead of him, Alaric could make out the collapsed tunnel that he had rigged to blow. And it was completely blocked with several tonnes of rubble and ice. And around the tunnel entrance, the snow had been blasted away and melted in an irregular pattern, revealing the stonework beneath.

"Okay, there's the tunnel." Alaric said, looking around now he had a direction marker. "Now, where do I go next?""

Alaric could hear the movements of claws against stone and ice. And it was coming from high above as indicated by his HUD. Alaric looked up, turning in place to get a better sight of where the clawing was.

His helmet adjusted it's vision to compensate for the light above and sure enough Alaric found the source. Alaric could see as his helmet magnified his view the xenomorphs scaling the cavern walls and going up the great shaft over the temple, on their way to the colony.

"There they are!" Alaric exclaimed, surprised that they were not as far as he thought.

Alaric quickly looked around the entire cavern to see if there was an other, more accessibly route. There was none. The cavern wall had no ledges or anything that could be used to get to the shaft.

Curse the xenomorphs and their climbing abilities.

"That's the only way out." Alaric concluded. "How the hell am I going to get up there?"

Aegis jumped onto his shoulder and spread his wings, indicating Alaric to go up.

"That's easy for you to say." Alaric pointed out. "You can fly."

It was there that he got his answer.

"I suggest you jump." Gri'nyr's voice suggested. "You're wearing my armour after all."

Alaric slumped his shoulders at the notion. Gri'nyr was telling him to jump all the way up there?

"Are you serious?" Alaric asked. "I only just put this armour on, I don't know how to jump like that."

"It's not that difficult. Concentrate." Gri'nyr advised, undeterred by Alaric's scepticism. "Its easy, focus your mind and jump."

Alaric shrugged his shoulders and looked up. He focused on a specific spot on the shaft and tried to jump to it. He only made a foot off the ground before landing on his feet. Aegis shook his head at the attempt.

"That was underwhelming." Alaric muttered.

"You're one of our progenitor's blood." Gri'nyr clarified. "You must feel it."

Alaric breathed deeply before thinking harder and trying again with some more force. While he did managed to gain a few inches, he slipped on landing and crashed into a heap on the webbed stone. Alaric cursed under his breath as he picked himself up with Aegis making a face-palm gesture with his wing.

"Well, that worked." Alaric muttered, tidying his cloak. "Am I missing something, here?"

"You are letting scepticism interfere." Gri'nyr pointed. "You have to believe."

Alaric then pointed out an previous point.

"You may have forgotten but I am still not over what you have been shoving in my mind." Alaric reminded. "I don't know what to believe any more."

Gri'nyr was undeterred by Alaric's comment.

"The armour is an extension of yourself. It is you. You have to stop thinking of it as a separate layer." Gri'nyr urged before he sighed. "Here, let me nudge you in the right direction."

Alaric relented. Like he had any other choice.

"All right." Alaric said, loosening himself in preparation like he was preparing for a marathon sprint. "Better not be wasting any more of my time."

He waited for Gri'nyr's commands.

"Slow your breathing." Gri'nyr commanded. "Let your mind be free. Clear your thoughts."

Alaric concentrated harder this time, slowing his breathing and emptying his mind. Alaric now tried to sync himself with the armour, Gri'nyr reminding him before that the armour is an extension of himself.

"That's it." Gri'nyr instructed "Now, focus. But don't strain yourself"

"What am I focusing for." Alaric asked.

"The strength of your ancestors and of our Progenitor." Gri'nyr revealed "Feel it within yourself."

Alaric focused his mind, focusing on the ancestors and those who came before, trying to feel for that fire in his blood and sure enough, after a few moments, Alaric could faintly feel something that he hadn't felt before.

"That's it." Grinyr said with slight praise. "Focus that feeling. Don't let go of it."

The thing that Alaric now was sensing was like a small flame that was slowly growing within his mind. Not like the usual fire that runs in his blood whenever he was in Rage, but a more subtle and pure flame that was in control. Alaric had never felt he fire like that before. The flame was slowly filling him up and the more he focussed on that flame the brighter it seemed to burn. It was as if it was fuelled by his thoughts and concentration.

"Concentrate. Open your mind." Gri'nyr urged. "Feel the power of our Progenitor, and all those who came before you, flow within you. Focus that power into being."

Alaric at that point could feel the armour react to his thoughts. The ornamentation on it was glowing and the mist surround him started to swill around him like a whirlpool. His cloak billowed in the sudden drift of wind. Aegis shuffled on his feet in anticipation. Alaric concentrated more and he could now feel the warm sensation slowly concentrate itself towards his right hand. Curiosity winning over him, he lifted his hand up to take a look. And what Alaric saw was a complete surprise. He could just make out what looked like a faint glowing ember, small and dim but enduring, hovering over his palm.

"What the..." Alaric whispered, as he watched the ember ebb and glow.

"Focus." Gri'nyr urged, sensing that Alaric was losing concentration. "Don't let up now."

Alaric quickly resumed his concentration, never taking his eyes off of the ember, willing it to stay in his hand. The ember seemed to dim at first but then it slowly got brighter As Alaric willed it into being. Smaller embers then started appear around it, orbiting around it like planets around a sun in varying arcs.

"All power comes from the Soul. The stronger the Soul, the brighter it burns." Gri'nyr recited.

Slowly, the ember grew, sprouting new flames as it did. And it grew brighter into a fiery white glow with a bluish tinge. Alaric continued to focus, not throwing his state of mind off for anything. Eventually the flame grew to fill his entire hand, casting light onto himself and the surround area.

"Focus." Gri'nyr repeated with firm urgency. "You're almost there."

Alaric could feel his mind strain from the exertion not to lose the flame he had conjured in his hand. He was sure that his nose was starting to bleed from the exertion. Though he might just be sweating. And it was at that point the flame burst into life with an almighty flash of power that could have illuminated the entire cavern.

Alaric flinched as the light blinded him.

When the light subsided, Alaric was sure that he had just lost it by flinching. But after blinking his sight back, Alaric was amazed as to what he had just done. Hovering in his hand was a white, blue tinged flame burning brightly.

"That's it." Gri'nyr praised. "You've opened the way."

Alaric watched the flame swirl in his hand. It flame looked as if it was flowing from an invisible crystal. That what it looked like to him.

"What... what is this?" Alaric asked, in awe to the flame in hand.

"A shard of our progenitor." Gri'nyr revealed with pride. "Your shard."

Alaric watched as the flame in his hand spread over his hand and then his his entire body erupting into a fiery white/blue aura. Alaric could now definitely feel what Gri'nyr was telling him. It was like how he felt when he was fighting Qul'dan back at the refinery. Only this time it more... complete.

He looked up to the shaft as the aura started to fade within the armour, causing the ornamentation to glow brighter still.

"Now jump!" Gri'nyr commanded.

Alaric took a deep breath, pushed his legs with all his might and was he in for a surprise. The wing ornamentations on his greaves glowed and with a ripple in the air, Alaric was propelled high into the air, parting the mist from his slipstream. And he was going much faster then he first anticipated.

"Oh shit!" Alaric cursed when he saw the shaft coming towards him fast.

He landed onto the shaft wall hard with a notable rock smashing crash, scrambling for a foothold the moment he made contact with the now fractured stone. He managed to grab a flat protruding slab through the shower of chipped ice and rock and he quickly hauled himself up, grabbing further handholds until he was standing a few feet from where he had landed. He panted hard as he took in what he just did.

He had just jumped hundreds of feet into the air wearing ancient armour, just like a comic book character.

Alaric looked back down at the temple prison, seeing the arc he had cut through the mist before it was enveloped once again. He then looked down to his greaves and much to his surprise, they had now gained a literal set of metalling wings that glowed with power. He watched as the wings flexed in anticipation for the next jump.

"Wow!" Alaric panted but it soon devolved into a laugh.

Aegis flew up to him before landing on his shoulder, illuminating the shaft with his light.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this." Alaric said to the hawk. "I did feel it."

"Congratulations, you have taken your first steps towards your birthright." Gri'nyr congratulated. "Now, if you want to save your friends, I suggest you jump to it."

"Always with the wit." Alaric mused.

"It's one of the few things I've got left." Gri'nyr joked in reply.

Looking up, Alaric could see the xenomorphs high up the shaft, continuing their warpath towards the colony. And from the look of it, they had just reached the end of their summit. Alaric had a lot of ground to cover. But now, he had the means to even up the fight.

"Hang on, Kra'vyx." Alaric prayed, bracing himself as Aegis jumped off his shoulder and flew upwards. "I'm coming!"

Alaric heaved himself up, the armour flashing to life as he jumped high and fast, grappling his way up the shaft walls with nimble and sure footing that grew much bolder with each jump. Aegis gave a loud call of celebration that echoed through the shaft and into the cavern, filling up the darkness with the first ray of hope for thousands of years.


	26. Chapter 25

Hey my devoted fans.

I finally got this chapter finished as much as I could so I can get to the comeback chapter. I am hoping to get the next chapter done this month as a Christmas gift for you all.

I have finalised the chosen cameos from the lack of answers given, despite some blatantly obvious references, and I am including one author whose story I am fervently following. I hope that your parts in the story is going to be enjoyable, especially as it is one thing that A:CM denied us. GODDAMN YOU,GEARBOX!

but anyway, in this chapter the colony set their escape plan into motion. But, as we all know what happens when xenomoprhs are involved, nothing is ever going to go to plan. especially since these bugs are of a bygone era.

So, as always, read away and leave me a comment in the box, update status' are to be PM's, and maybe a constructive criticism or two.

I'll see you in the next chapter.

* * *

><p>Chapter 25- Exodus.<p>

In the colony's operations room, captain Kabowski stood before the assembled group before him. The remnant of the colony's leadership was gathered for this meeting. Foreman Hernandez and Sergeant Kelso, who had regained consciousness and was now more heavily bandaged then usual, were at the front. Archangel Dubois was next to the mauled sergeant tending to his bandages and dressings. Other marines and colonists were around, waiting for the meeting to begin. They were the main drivers for the evacuation convoy. The rest of the archangels were not attending as they were busy doing what they needed to do, be it readying the vehicles or checking their gear. They already knew the plan.

Looking the odd one out, Mal'fax was standing beside Andrzej, arms crossed.. No doubt he was representing his friends in this matter and also to prevent any conflict between them and the colony. He was heavily clad in a combination of armour plating and insulating material, no doubt fashioned for the journey ahead. His hammer was holstered on his back.

"Now, you all understand why this meeting has been called." Andrzej said to the assembly. "The final preparations are being carried out and within the hour, we will be abandoning the colony."

He let that sink in, hearing the assembled colonists murmur at the idea of leaving this location. Evidently, some were reluctant to leave the relative safety of the colony.

"We have been assessing all of our options, taking into account our current condition, those of this planet and those of the bugs stalking us."Andrzej continued. "And this is what we have come up with."

He then pressed a button on the central holo-table. A rough image projected up, distorted and grainy. After some adjustments, and a kick from his boot, Andrzej focused the projection clearly. It was an orbital map showing an area of the planet. The colony's location was indicated by a green symbol located in a massive mountain range. And there was another symbol, indicating a space-port, some distance away on a mountain plateau.

"There is a landing zone where the cruisers that brought the colonists are berthed." he indicated, pointing to the relevant symbol. "It's located on this plateau over twenty miles west from the colony, in a secure hanger occupying a natural cave formation.

"How do you know the bugs haven't already trashed the ships?" a marine asked.

"The ships are in a secure location, information of which was made known only on authorisation of the evacuation order. BY the administrator or by Spec Ops operatives." Foreman Hernadez explained. "And the only way into it is through a bulkhead that's over ten feet of solid rock and reinforced steel."

"Thank you for that observation." Andrzej praised.

He focused back on the holo-table.

"The only way to get to them is to get to the surface and attempt to navigate our way there along this route." he continued, reaching for a holo-pen. "This is the quickest and least dangerous route that we had time to pick and analyse."

He then pointed out the route on the holo-map, tracing a glowing line along a certain pass, across a vast snowy plain in the base of a valley before finishing up at another mountainous area with the aforementioned plateau.

"Now as you can see, the route is fairly straightforward, literally and figuratively." he said, placing the pen back down.

"We can't stick to the tunnels?" a colonist asked.

"The tunnels have not been mapped fully beyond the surroundings of the colony and the refinery." Foreman Hernandez pointed out. "If we take a wrong turn anywhere, we could get lost, fall down a ravine or worse... ending up right in the bugs' claws."

"Well, how do you know that those bugs aren't just laying in wait for us on the surface?" a marine questioned. "Those fuckers know ambushing like the back of their claws."

Andrzej indicated the route over the plain before adjusting the view. Switching to a scan image, it was revealed that underneath the snow was a flat rock formation, evidence of past tectonic activity, and it wasn't that deep under the snow, maybe one to two metres at most.

"Geo-phys surveys taken before the colony was established revealed a rock formation that leads most the way there. And the snow in that area is too shallow for those bugs to hide in. Plus, it should allow us to gain some ground in swift time. And that means more distance from them."

"Still, this is just sketchy." the marine said.

"This whole planet is sketchy." another marine reminded.

"With a bit of luck, those bugs won't venture out of the caves, their biggest strength." Andrzej hoped. "All that open space won't work to their advantage. Plus, we'll have the advantage of a clear view."

This gained some murmurs of approval. Xenomorphs were not the type to venture out in the open unless they had numbers on their side, preferring to stay in the shadows of structures and dense vegetation. Using their natural affinity for stealth and adaptation to their advantage.

"Now, I won't lie to any of you." Andrzej admitted to them. "This is an enormous risk that we are taking but it is our only viable course of action." he then changed the holotables image to that of a surface camera showing the snowfall of the surface. " This clear weather isn't going to last forever. Trying to escape when the blizzards return is suicide. We would being frozen solid before we even reach the halfway point."

"What's more, our supply situation is incredibly bleak." Andrzej added. "We only have enough supplies and manpower to attempt this once, we'll never have another crack at this. And I won't even mention the lack of toilet paper."

"Tell me about it, we had to use the last of the playboy magazines." a marine spoke up.

A few snickers were heard from that joke. Especially the edition involving the 'Arcturian Pin-up'.

"Well, thank you for that info." Andrzej said, with a mild touch of awkwardness before focusing back on the task at hand. "As I was saying, We have only one shot at this plan to succeed."

"Our other option?" Foreman Hernandez asked.

"Sitting around here, waiting to die when those supplies run out." Andrzej bluntly revealed. "And doing nothing is far worse then doing something."

Kelso at that point let out a sharp hiss through his teeth as Sarah tightened the bandage on his back. Even after all the painkillers running through his veins, he was still uncomfortable. Especially in his lower back where that spiral of shrapnel came close to making him bleed out like a sieve.

"Sergeant Kelso, are you sure you should be up?" Andrzej asked.

The sergeant pointed toward his heavily bandaged head. The amount of damage he had sustained throughout the entire crisis was astonishing. Almost all of his head was bandaged, save for his mouth, nose and his one determined eye. In fact, he was starting to look more like a bloodier version of the Invisible Man.

"I already had the worst day of my life, those bugs can't make it any worse." he bluntly declared before hissing as Sarah finished tightening his bandage. "Well, except the medic of course." he turned to the archangel in question. "No offence."

"None taken." Sarah replied, working on the bandages on Kelso's arm.

"If that is all, this meeting is adjourned." Andrzej finished. "Finish what you have to do and we're leaving."

But then there was one detail that was suddenly brought up.

"One thing. What are we going to do about that?" a marine at the front questioned, pointing to Mal'fax.

Mal'fax lowered his arms at the indication of being called a thing. He, as current events proved, was now a full blooded hunter, not a 'What'.

"They're coming with us." Andrzej reminded. "They helped us out so far."

"Well, that guy with the axes is no longer with us." the marine pointed out. "Wasn't he the only reason they're still here?"

Andrzej straightened his shoulders at the mention of Alaric. It wasn't a secret that Alaric was missing and presumed dead.

"Regardless, they are under my squad's jurisdiction and Alaric is... was part of the squad." Andrzej stated.

"I say leave them for the bugs. They'll slow them down anyway to give us some distance." the marine decided rather callously.

"And give them a predalien or two while we're at it?" Sarah pointed out.

Some of the other marines murmured at the prospect of having to fight a hybrid. Even if they have never fought a hybrid in their life, the mere thought of fighting one was enough to discourage even the most gung-ho marine.

"If those things are bad enough with a human host, I dread to think what a predator host would give." Sarah continued. "We're barely able to stand against the ones they've got already."

"I've seen one of those things up close once. On LV-1004." a marine, sporting a glowing cybernetic eye, spoke up. "Fucking thing took out nearly two squads before we managed to kill it. I was lucky my eye was the only thing I lost."

Some other marines added their experiences, each involving much death and destruction.

"And do you really want to fight one of those bugs up close when you run out of ammo?"Andrzej added. "Because a knife isn't going to do much good. Maybe you could give it a nick or two before before it punches through your head?"

He then gestured to Mal'fax to illustrate his importance.

"They may be just new hunters but if any of us is going to survive, the only way is together." he stated. "They are the only ones who can go toe-to-toe with those bugs."

"Bullshit!" the marine objected. "Look what happened to Topazini and Giles. They'll take our heads the first chance they get!"

Andrzej at that point walked up to the marine, before grabbing him by the neck. Before the marine could react, Andrzej expertly knocked the marine's legs out from under him and manhandled him up to Mal'fax. He was intending to prove a point as the marine struggled futilely and the assembly reacted to this show with a mixture of surprise and hushed anticipation.

"Fancy a souvenir?" Andrzej asked Mal'fax encouragingly, restraining the marine with his neck exposed. "Go on, chop his head off. He's right here."

Mal'fax looked down at the marine, cocking his head as if he was toying with the thought. He gave the marine a quick once-over, drawing a talon across the marines neck before shaking his head. He made a gesture that meant 'too small'.

"Remember this." Andrzej told the marine as Mal'fax stepped back to where he was standing. "If they wanted your head, they would've taken it already."

With that, he let go of the marine before shoving him off to the assembly, watching the soldier tumble into a heap before picking himself up sharply and scrambling back to the others.

"This meeting is adjourned." Andrzej called authoritatively. "Get to your vehicles and prepare."

The assembly dispersed, muttering things like how this is a bad idea or they should've applied for that agricultural colony posting back home. Andrzej switched off the holo-table and walked off with Mal'fax in tow.

Andrzej turned to his medic who now finished her treatment on the grizzled sergeant.

"Well, that's as good as it's going to get." Sarah said, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. "I advise you avoid strenuous movement for the time being. I don't want your sutures to tear again."

Kelso turned to her as she put her gloves back on.

"I doubt I'll be avoiding any strenuous movement if the bugs have their way." Kelso pointed out.

"Where's Hicks?" Andrzej asked his medic.

"He's sleeping." Sarah asked, putting her kit away in her pack.

"Well, then I'll have to go and wake him." Andrzej decided.

With that, Andrzej walked off to retrieve his gunner. Mal'fax followed suit with Kelso and Sarah in tow.

* * *

><p>Hicks in the meantime was resting on a propped chair against the wall, arms crossed with his head down on his chest and breathing lightly. His smartgun was laying on a table surrounded by cleaning tools, servo harness, his helmet and a drum of ammunition, no doubt being tended to for the journey. There was also another weapon, likely a carbine or something that size, kept inside a large leather holster. Several marines were standing around him, trying to rouse the slumbering archangel.<p>

And they were dumbfounded that Hicks was not responding to the stimulus. They tried shaking him, shouting right in his ear and now they started resorting to more direct methods. Hicks wasn't waking up from the rough juggling of the shoulders, his head rocking around, so a marine decided for a more blunt awakening.

"Hey Archangel, wake up!" the marine demanded, slapping Hicks about the face.

Hicks' head rolled around for a moment, swinging to a stop and he only gave out a light sigh in response.

"I think you just knocked him out." the other marine said.

"Knocked out?" the marine questioned. "If he wasn't breathing, I'd think he was dead."

Andrzej and co entered at that point. And the captain was less then pleased to see one of his squad being treated in this manner.

"What are you doing?" Andrzej demanded, walking up to the marines. "Why are you slapping one of my troops?"

"Did Spec Ops start recruiting narcoleptics?" the offending marine marine questioned. "This guy is a fucking rock. We been trying to wake him for the last half hour."

"You won't wake him up like that." Andrzej revealed, stepping forward. "Out of the way."

Andrzej ushered them away from his sleeping gunnery officer. He walked up to Hicks, holding a hand in front of Hicks' sleeping face.

"Hicks, awaken." Andrzej commanded, snapping his fingers.

Hicks immediately woke up the moment his captain snapped his fingers, blinking a few times. He rubbed his eyes as he stood up, and his cheek too. He guessed what had happened.

"How long was I out?" he asked, not even yawning. "You know slapping doesn't work."

"An hour." Andrzej told Hicks, pointing a thumb at the marine who slapped him. "And that numb-nut is the one who slapped you."

Hicks took in his captain's answer and nodded before he took in how long he was asleep for.

"Is it that time already?" he said. "Christ, I haven't even got my stuff together."

Sarah was up to him, flashing a light into his eyes to check his ocular reflex.

"I'm fine." he said, brushing her off and walking to the table with his gear on.

One of the marines pointed at Hicks with disbelief on his face. The other marine wasn't as abrupt as the first but was still surprised.

"I don't believe it." the pointing marine said in both disbelief and disgust. "One of the angels is a Zip-Head."

Hicks head shot towards the marine who said that.

"What did you say?!" Hicks demanded.

Andrzej was quick to whisk Hicks away from his smartgun.

"Hicks, ignore him." Andrzej ordered firmly, motioning Hicks away.

"Philips, let it go." the other marine warned his comrade. "The guy is a Spec Ops trooper."

Phillips on the other had no intention of letting it go. He shook off his comrade and paced right up to Hicks.

"I applied for Spec Ops and they rejected me. Yet, they admit a fucking Zip-Head?!" Phillips fumed.

Faster then anyone predicted, Hicks decked the marine with one vicious armoured punch to the face. And before Phillips hit the deck, Hicks had drawn his falchion and was straddled over the marine with the blade to the soldier's neck.

"Say it to my face, I dare you!" Hicks goaded, pressing the blade into the marines throat.

The marine held his nose, which had blood seeping from it, and his eyes were wide as the curved tip of the falchion starting to prod at his neck. Sarah and Andrzej was quick to restrain Hicks from going further, grabbing him by shoulders and hauling him back. Andrzej got himself between a resisting Hicks and Phillips.

"That's enough!" Andrzej commanded.

"Hicks, it's not worth it." Sarah pleaded, holding him back.

Hicks shook them off as Phillips was helped up by his comrade, holding his bleeding nose. Hicks gripped his sword so hard that his knuckles cracked. He breathed deeply before sheathing his weapon.

"Bullshit." Hick growled before walking off to gather his things.

Phillips rubbed his nose, seeing his blood on his gloved fingers.

"For a Zip-Head, you hit like a pussy." Phillips jeered, rubbing that word in some more.

Faster then anyone could have predicted hicks had grabbed his smartgun from the table and aimed it one handed at Phillips' head, the barrel just an inch from his face. The fact that Hicks was holding it with one outstretched hand and not showing any strain showed Phillips that hicks was a lot stronger then he looked. But the marine noticed one crucial thing missing.

"Look at that, Zippy forgot to load his gun." Phillips mockingly pointed out.

That was when they heard a pistol cocking and, much to everyone's surprise, Andrzej had his pistol pointed at the marine's head. Andrzej was evidently losing his patience with this infighting. Much to the point where he felt tempted to invoke a certain... order.

"Don't tell me your a Zip-Sympathiser?" Phillips said in disgust.

Andrzej at that point grabbed Phillips by the throat before kicking his legs out from under him. Phillips struggled but he was quickly and thoroughly restrained in an armlock. A run-of-the-mill marine was no match for a seasoned Spec Ops officer.

Phillips wasn't feeling so cocky now.

"I am warning you. If you interfere with my squad again." the Archangels captain firmly warned, pressing the barrel to the marine's temple and pulling the hammer back. "I will execute you myself. Now, GET BACK to your vehicle!"

He then pistol whipped Phillips hard over the head, splitting his scalp before shoving the marine away with his boot. Phillips went crashing into a stack of crates, holding his head with blood seeping through his fingers.

The marines took this as cue to leave. Phillips gave Hicks, who was still aiming his smartgun, one last venomous leer before walking off holding his nose and head, Andrzej keeping his sidearm aimed at him. His marine comrade followed suit, making show that he didn't want anything else to do with this incident. Kelso apologised for his marine's behaviour to which Andrzej merely holstered his pistol.

Spec Ops were given authorisation to perform summery... discipline when the need arises. And only as a last resort if it interfered with their mission.

"You two get to your vehicles!" Kelso shouted, following his troopers. "Save it for the bugs!"

Despite his current state, Kelso showed no signs of relinquishing command yet. He even gave a Phillips a smack over his bloody head, yelling at him for disrupting the peace. This led to some bickering about Zip-heads taking up all the best jobs and other such nonsense.

When they were out of earshot, Hicks slammed his smartgun hard onto the table with a loud crash, scattering some of his things. He held his face in exasperation, letting out a frustrated groan as he slumped back down in his chair.

"Bastards, every single one of them." he fumed through his teeth.

The truth behind Hicks was a rather personal one. And that was he didn't get his higher intelligence naturally. Hicks was an unintended result from an addiction to Xeno-Zip.

Xeno-Zip was the name giving to a highly potent and highly addictive drug, originally created by the Grant Corporation, that was derived from the royal jelly of xenomorph queen mothers, the highest tier of the xenomorph hierarchy. In the aftermath of the xenomorph infestation of Earth when the xenomorphs were finally eradicated from the human homeworld, the royal jelly left in the hives provided the basis for the drug, which can enhance virtually any biological function of the human who ingests it. It could enhance the muscle and circulatory systems, resulting in greater strength and stamina. And it could also enhance the users mental capacity, enabling them to remember the smallest of details and solve complex equations in a matter of seconds, regardless if they had prior education or not. The effects were different on each user, no two results are often the same.

However, there is a major flaw. And that was the best results could only be attained from pure, natural royal jelly. Royal jelly had been successfully synthesised since the infestation but the results were anything but successful as synthetic jelly renders anyone who ingests it highly unstable to the state of complete and utter insanity and rage. Thus, there exists a thriving black market demand for the pure jelly, sending many a privateer ship to xenomorph hives. And many a world had been unintentionally infested as a result of it. And another critical flaw was the fact that xenomorphs, upon sensing a user of Xeno-Zip, would fall into a state of extreme frenzy and aggression and literally tear the user apart limb from limb, even when he has been reduced to a bloody stain on the floor. It has been theorised that due to the partially synthetic nature of the drug, the xenomorphs identify these users as being associated with a rival queen.

Despite the severe drawbacks, Xeno-Zip had certain use in dire emergencies and life-or-death situations. Even the Colonial Marines, as much as Federation law allows, utilise it for certain occasions, forming so-called 'Junkie Squads' comprised of troops who were best able to resist the... side effects of the drug.

Xeno-zip may enhance humans but the side effects from withdrawal were rife. It makes other traditional drugs such as cocaine and heroin look like a mild hangover by comparison. And the effects of those in pregnancy was even more terrible. The drug would interfere not only with the expectant mother but also the child that she is carrying. The results from such cases, depending on the amount of Xeno-Zip consumed over the gestation period, ranged from severe mental disabilities, dementia and insanity in the worst cases, crippling physical pain from sensory overload, sensitivity to light and sounds, the list just kept going.

Hicks was one such Xeno-Zip case as his mother had the misfortune of trying the drug during the early stage of his development, unknowing that she was pregnant at the time. However, Hicks got off lucky. He retained the high cognitive capabilities that Xeno-Zip can bestow but at the cost of acute insomnia. But, at least that could be treated relatively simply. Unfortunately, he had become a target of discrimination and harassment from those against the drug, those who envied his abilities and from mothers who question 'Why does my child suffer, but not him?'.

But, with such capabilities in high demand, Hicks quickly, and to the resentment of his fellow recruits, rose up through the ranks of the colonial marines and was inducted into the Archangels. His fast calculating mind, pilot and gunnery skills and electronics savvy proved invaluable to the squad.

However, this was not to say that the Federation actively supports such use of Xeno-Zip.

Mal'fax, through watching the commotion and seeing Hicks' reaction, realised that this had solved a nagging thought he had about the marine. His scent seemed...merged with that of the Xenomorphs. And he had heard of how humans developed a drug using royal jelly and had even seen a recording of one such individual. However, Hicks showed none of the traits that Xeno-Zip users show, especially when they're suffering from withdrawal.

And it was apparent to him that users, and those born affected by the drug, were discriminated against.

Sarah reached over to Hicks for comfort but Hicks swatted her away.

"I'm fine, just... give me a minute." Hicks demanded, waving his hand.

Andrzej looked up to Mal'fax.

"Gather your friends." he told the initiate. "We leave in five minutes."

Mal'fax nodded before walking off to gather his friends. Andrzej remained behind to get Hicks back in line. He would need his gunner for the journey ahead.

Mal'fax walked back to the hab where his friends were, adjusting his armour and watching the colonists finish last minute preparations. He and the rest of his group were kept busy by forging themselves new armour that was better suited for the climate on the surface. It was a combination of hammered and salvaged plating with insulating lining and also any spare thermal material fashioned into robes and scarves. Their improvised cloaks that Alaric made were further refined with much better cordage. Mal'fax chose to have more plating and so he was more heavily armoured then the rest.

Mal'fax arrived at the hab and from first glance he noticed that Fel'tak wasn't inside. After some searching he found Fel'tak, wearing predominately more thermal material with armoured limbs and pauldrons, was standing in front of the rear hab wall, humming to himself with his hands to his groin. And sure enough, there was a steam cloud fuming in front of him.

"Fel'tak?" Mal'fax called. "Hey, Fel'tak!"

Fel'tak jumped at the calling of his name before fumbling around downstairs.

"Paya's blades! Give me a bit of warning next time, Mal'fax!" Fel'tak snapped at him.

Mal'fax walked up to his friend, Fel'tak turning his back to him out of modesty.

"What are you doing? We're leaving." he told him.

Fel'tak looked at his hands.

"Oh, just fucking great!" Fel'tak cursed. "I pissed all over my fucking hands!"

Mal'fax, putting the pieces together, evidently suppressed a snicker. Fel'tak lashed out at him with a piss-drenched hand but Mal'fax dodged it.

"Well, clean yourself up before the oomans think you're scared of the surface." Mal'fax advised, walking off.

"Oh, ha ha ha! Fel'tak snapped back, reaching for some snow.

Mal'fax went back around the hab, hearing Fel'tak's mumbling and curses, and walked in shaking his head in amusement. The hab had been converted into a makeshift forge complete with hammers, a sturdy chunk of girder as an anvil and plenty of scrap metal laying around. He saw Ly'enta kneeling in prayer, no doubt for protection and guidance for the journey with her chain whips in front of her. She was outfitted more in insulating material then armour, in a way evoking the image of a priestesses robes. Kra'vyx however had not moved from his spot besides the fire barrel. He just sat there, knees to his chest watching the flames slowly fade to embers. He was still in his thermal jacket with his hood over his head and face.

Mal'fax walked up to Ly'enta and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you ready Ly'enta?" Mal'fax asked.

Ly'enta looked up to him.

"Is it time?" she asked.

"Yes." Mal'fax confirmed.

Ly'enta got her feet, straightening her robes.

"Got everything?" Mal'fax questioned.

"Of course." Ly'enta answered, before she gestured towards Kra'vyx. "What about Kra'vyx?" she asked before leaning closer to Mal'fax's ear "He hasn't perked up at all since we got back." she whispered.

"I'll deal with him." Malfax told her. "Fel'tak is outside, go join him."

Ly'enta nodded, gathering up her chain whips and holstering them on her hips. She walked over to a table where her mask and pack was, slipping her pack on her shoulder and belt on her mask.

"Ly'enta." Mal'fax called.

Ly'enta turned to him. Mal'fax gestured to her mask.

"Don't lose your mask." he cautioned. "That has the only evidence of what we've been through."

"I won't." Lyenta assured him, slipping it on her face before walking outside to join Fel'tak

It was true. Ly'enta was the only one whose mask had not been lost or damaged. And the recordings of their ordeal would prove vital in explaining what had happened to them. If they had nothing, not even their trophies as proof, this would be seen as a severe dishonour to the clan. Speaking of which, Fel'taks and Mal'fax's trophies were already in their transport so that was another piece of evidence in their favour.

Mal'fax turned back to his friend and saw that Kra'vyx still wasn't moving, despite hearing what was going on. Mal'fax sighed as he walked up to his friend. Kra'vyx didn't make any sign of noticing Ma'fax. He just kept his eyes on the embers in the barrel.

"Kra'vyx, we have to go now." he told him.

Kra'vyx didn't answer. Mal'fax knelt down to him.

"Kra'vyx, we waited as long as we could. I'm sorry but Alaric isn't coming back." Mal'fax told him

Kra'vyx shook his head at Mal'fax's assumption.

"You don't know him." Kra'vyx said, what sounded like the thousandth time.

Mal'fax rolled his eyes.

"Kra'vyx, you have to forget about him." Mal'fax urged, losing his patience. "He's gone and we have to focus on ourselves now."

"He's coming back." Kra'vyx said, like he hadn't heard what Mal'fax just said,

Mal'fax brought Kra'vyx up on his feet, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling his hood down. Kra'vyx looked really downtrodden as shown by his bloodshot eyes, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and the bruising on his face.

"Look, you got a mother and a sister to go back to." he reminded. "We all have families to get back to."

"Alaric is family." Kra'vyx stated. "And we don't leave family behind!"

Mal'fax gave Kra'vyx a slap to the face, silencing him in an attempt to get some sense into his grief stricken head. Kra'vyx blinked from the assault to his senses, shutting him up.

"And I am sure that Alaric doesn't want you to die on this ice ball. He died, more or less, so that Hish wouldn't get us." Mal'fax reminded, pointing an authoritative finger at him. "Do you intend to make his sacrifice worthless by sitting here, waiting to die?"

"No." Kra'vyx mumbled.

"Wouldn't he have wanted you to keep going?" Mal'fax added. "Wouldn't he have wanted you to get back home to your family?"

Kra'vyx wasn't as optimistic at that mention. He knew that Ja'anya was in love with Alaric and that Alaric had promised her that they would all make it back. ALL of them.

How would he be able to tell her that her lover fell to his death on an ice world, grappling a Hish? Couls he even bring himself to do it?

Mal'fax then gave Kra'vyx a reassuring shake of the shoulder.

"Look, sorry about slapping you but you need to be focused." Mal'fax said. "We're not safe here and we can't let up now."

Mal'fax did a quick check on Kra'vyx and saw that he still had his kataras sheathed on his hip.

"Come on." Mal'fax urged. "We have a home to get back to. And besides, you and Ly'enta need a trophy."

To hell with a trophy, Kra'vyx thought as he was led out by his friend. I need Alaric back.

Mal'fax led Kra'vyx out of the hab and towards the convoy.

The convoy was comprised of six trucks with a driver and gunner, seven transports (Three of which were used by the marines), another large transport that contained something that wasn't known to the initiates, only that Andrzej told them that their backup was in there. The transports hold roughly a dozen or so occupants and the tank with a crew compliment of six.

Marines and colonists were loading up their transports. Kelso was barking out orders and the soot stained Flambe was busy lighting his cigar with his flamer's pilot light before stepping inside his transport.

The initiates were travelling with the Archangels in their transport. Mostly so that they would not get into any altercations with the other marines. Reaching the transport, they could see that the rest of the archangels, bar one, was already here. They hopped inside, keeping themselves low and sitting down. Kra'vyx just slumped down, keeping his eyes to the firing slit in hope that Alaric would suddenly arrive. Ly'enta sat down near to the driver's cab while Fel'tak and Mal'fax to up positions by the hatch.

Their trophies were taking up a lot of space but in a form of added protection, they were placed against the walls of the transport as an extra layer of armour. Fel'tak objected his hard won trophy to such use but Mal'fax was more pragmatic, stating that a trophy is of little use if the bearer is dead.

"Kra'vyx, I suggest you get some sleep."Mal'fax recommended. "You need to regain your strength if anything should happen.".

Kra'vyx reluctantly turned away from the slit and slumped against the wall, trying to get comfortable before shutting his eyes. Though secretly, Kra'vyx admitted that he needed sleep having not slept a wink since they crashed on this planet.

Hicks was the last one to enter, holding his smartgun over his shoulder and servo harness retracted on his back before the hatch retracted up. From the way he entered, he was still annoyed from his scuffle with Phillips. In fact, Phillips once again hurled abuse at Hicks as the archangel passed his transport. Hicks' reply was to swing his smartgun's butt into his face without breaking his stride, adding further disfigurement to the bigot and an added warning of "Should've been ready.".

Karl was in the driver seat and Sergei was next to him in the passenger seat, brandishing his backup rifle. It was a modified M5RA battle rifle with 4X scope and under-slung grenade launcher. Other modifications were the use of high velocity rocket propelled ammunition, extended magazines and the grenade launcher firing HEAP (High-Explosive-Armour-Piercing) shells, of which Sergei only had one. This was to compensate in the event of him losing his anti-material rifle.

The rest of the angels were in the compartment, either manning the bolt-guns or flamers on their pintle-mounts or going through final checks on their gear. Andrzej was going over the final details over his comms, making sure that everyone plays their part.

"How much ammo have we got?" Mac asked, checking his pulse rifle's sights.

"Down to one mag and one grenade each." Sergei answered called from his seat. "I have been counting each individual round for the last hour, so don't complain about it."

"Then we better make each shot count." Mac proposed, lowering his rifle.

Hicks got up on the turret mount, locking his smartgun into position on the rail and cocking it, before swivelling around to get the feel. Karl wheeled his window down and stuck his head out, looking up to the gunner.

"You ready, Hicks?" he asked.

"Almost." Hicks answered, reaching to his back.

Hicks pulled out a customised combat shotgun from the holster on his back. Much like the standard ZX-78 shotgun of the colonial marines, it was a magazine fed pump-action close quarters weapon. But, it was an older variant with a single barrel instead of two and there were many features not standard issue on it. For instance, there was a compensator on the end of the barrel to control the recoiling gases and the framework was made out of rather high grade materials. There was also a modified feed and gas-actuated system so that it could be fired semi-automatically should need rise. On the receiver, Hicks had engraved an intricate scenic beach view with seagulls in the air and a dog on the beach.

It was apparent that it was modelled after a lost heirloom.

"I like to keep this handy, for close encounters." He quoted, cocking it with one hand with a loud cha-chink before holstering it again.

"You say that every time." Karl said, pulling his head back.

"Because it's true." Hicks said, down the hatch.

The convoy revved their engines, breathing hot plumes of steam from their exhausts. The trucks and their marine drivers called in on their comms, as did the transporters and the tank. After final checks were completed, the go ahead was given by captain Kabowski. The lead trucks with their sentry guns beeping and sweeping their view, revved and drove forward through the tunnel out from the colony. The transports followed suit, the tank taking up position in the middle, the turret and sponson guns scanning the area. The trucks bringing up the rearguard were the last to leave the colony, cruising out of the cavern and leaving the now abandoned complex to the planet.

* * *

><p>The drive through the tunnels was surprisingly uneventful, winding down many empty tunnels and through abandoned caverns. But at any rate, the xenomorphs for some reason had not chosen to attack them in the tunnels. Even so, the sentries of the convoy kept a vigilant eye. Especially when signs of the xenomorphs were seen.<p>

Claw marks in the icy walls.

Sergei leaned out of the window for a closer look as their transport drove past a few.

"These marks are a few hours old." he said to Karl, running his hand along the grooves. "Two or three, give or take." he counted the amount of markings to estimate the number of xenomoprh that passed here. "Seem to be ones out of the hive when the tunnel blew."

"Well, that means the bugs are A: somewhere up ahead or B: somewhere behind us." Karl pointed out.

Sergei clambered back inside.

"It looked like they were going forward." Sergei surmised, reaching for his comms. "_Kapitán_, we have bug tracks heading forward from our current route. Two to three hours old." he voxxed.

"Acknowledged." Andrzej confirmed over the comms. "Convoy, bugs tracks located. We are on high alert."

Despite this foreboding marker and passing through many areas where ambush would seem ideal, the xenomorphs were nowhere to be found. And this was adding more tension on an already nerve-racking journey.

It wasn't long before they reached the next phase of the plan.

"We're coming up for the surface now." the lead truck voxxed in. "Hopefully, the blizzard hasn't returned.

"Well, we'll find out one way or another." another marine voxxed. "I'll take this blizzard over bugs any day."

The marines on the trucks quickly wrapped their thermal scarves and balaclavas around their faces and slid their visors downs as the lead truck exited the mouth of the cave, headlights on full. Fortunately, the blizzard has not risen but the snowfall was still making it difficult to see clearly for more then a dozen or so metres ahead. But, fortunately there were guide lights marking the roads. The rest of the convoy followed suit.

"Well, visibility is still shit." a marine said over the comms.

"Keep an eye on the trackers." Andrzej ordered. "Even if the bugs aren't near, don't let them sneak up on us."

The convoy rumbled it's way down the mountains, following the guide lights and keeping a slow and steady pace. The nimbler trucks navigated their way much easier then the transports and far more easier then the tank. The latter had to cautiously edge it's way along the roads, stopping and pivoting on the spot to get around the tighter corners. The crew inside could be heard exclaiming to their predicaments, involving a lot of swearing and black humour.

Despite these barriers, the convoy was passing through the mountains with little hindrance.

The convoy reached the end of the mountain range within an hour, the lights guiding them through the safer path. They only had to get through this snow plain and it will be smooth driving from that point to the plateau.

Visibility here was now at an all time low. With the snowstorm around them, it was difficult to get a bearing on their position as there was no landmarks that could be accurately ascertained. Everything seemed to be a uniform white with grey blotches.

And their progress was hampered by that.

The convoy had changed formation so that the trucks encircled the transports ten metres apart and the tank took up the centre. With a new perimeter formed, the convoy progressed their way further into the valley.

"I don't like this." Hicks said, sweeping his smartgun around. "Walls on each side and the only way out is either forward or backwards."

He was right. The valley was at most a kilometre, maybe two kilometres, wide and from the cliff faces, snow banks made the floor of the valley into a concave base. As such going any direction other then straight would be arduous at best.

At least there was nothing out here in these desolate wastes. But, that was about to change in a most haunting manner.

That was when the ominous chiming of the motion tracker filled the air. And it was coming from the lead truck. The gunner on the truck, lifted his tracker and he could see, from the sensor on the truck's cab, there was a signal.

"Captain Kabowski, we got something?" the gunner voxxed.

"What is it?" Andrzej questioned.

The gunner looked at the screen as he focused on the signal, turning on the spot to triangulate it's position, the flamers pilot light whipping in the wind.

"Motion tracker is picking up something coming towards us. From left of our position and it's closing in fast." he relayed.

"Bugs?" Andrzej asked.

"I don't know but it's big... really big."

"Well, get a visual! Last thing we need is bugs or an avalanche."

The marine lifted the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the area to the left where the signal was coming from, checking the motion tracker for reference. While there was no blizzard raging around them, the snowfall and lack of adequate sunlight made it difficult to make out anything in the distance. All he could see was snow dunes, ice spires and ragged rocks.

The convoy slowed the pace as the lead truck continued to track the signal

The motion tracker's tone was starting to get quicker. That meant the anomaly was moving faster and closer.

"Do you see anything?" The driver asked. "The tracker is going crazy."

"I can't see any..." the gunner reported before he paused. "Wait a sec, I see it."

In the snowfall obscured distance, he could make out a dark form that was heading for them. Straining his eyes to make out what it was, the marine could tell that it was an animal moving on all fours. But his eyes widened and jaws dropped in shock when he saw a distinctive head shape, spinal protrusions and a wickedly barbed tail come into focus. And it speeding up towards them.

And when the turret beeped rapidly and opened fire in that direction, his fear was confirmed. Especially how the bullets were just ricocheting off the shape.

"What is it?!" the driver asked frantically.

"Oh shit!" the gunner cursed, banging on the cab. "Back up! Back up!"

No sooner did the gunner shout that, that the chaos begin. The lead vehicle was suddenly t-boned by a large xenomorph with a head that resembled a giant plough. The truck was sent flying through the air with the loud rending of metal and showers of sparks. The truck broke apart from the force of the impact, bursting into flames, scattering wreckage, the sentry gun firing wildly and the poor marines occupying it . The marines flew like ragdolls, screaming in both terror and pain through the air before landing hard into the snow drifts, flaming wreckage landing around them a good thirty feet or so. The sentry struck a rock and broke apart in a flurry of exploding munitions.

And before the marines could even pick themselves up or cry for help, they were suddenly pulled under the snow by an unseen force. Only a fast growing red stain in the snow and muffled screams was evidence of their existence.

Kra'vyx woke with a startle when he heard the truck getting pulverised, his hand going straight for a katara.

"What was that?!" he asked.

"Bugs!" a marine on the truck nearest the xenomorph shouted.

"Weapons free!" Andrzej shouted over the vox.

The marine unleashed a gout of flame from his flamer, engulfing the beast as it turned it's attention on him. The xenomorph roared at them as the flames furled around it before running off to a safe distance aflame, trying to smother the flames in the snow.

At that point there was another thundering crash from the rear. Swivelling his smartgun around, Hicks could see that the rear truck had been shunted off by another battering ram of a bug. But this time, the marines had managed to douse the xenomorph with the flamer and it was on fire trying to douse the flames in the snow as the truck rolled over onto it's back. The marines quickly clambered out and bolted for the transports before the truck burst into flames from it's ruptured fuel tank.

"We've been flanked!" he yelled, firing his weapon.

And sure enough from the haze, more and more shapes were appearing from all sides.

The convoy had walked into an ambush. And not only that, the convoy was led into a choke point and the only way out was now blocked. Marines and armed colonists in the transports quickly exited the transports, rushing to fill in the gaps of the perimeter the trucks had formed. Flambe was standing out like a sore thumb in his blackened armour and wielding his large flamer. Kelso, in his bloodied bandages, was barking out orders and firing a pulse rifle. Phillips, also sporting bandages on his bruised face, was firing a boltgun.

The Archangels deployed with the initiates outside their transport. Hicks stayed on his smartgun as the squad moved into firing positions. Mal'fax and his friends, Kra'vyx now being more focused on the fight after catching a nap and the chance to avenge Alaric and gain a trophy in the process, moved as a group to engage the nearest xenomorph which made a beeline towards them.

The young hunters evaded the xenomorph as it bounded past them. Lye'nta lashed out her whips around it's neck as Fel'tak swept in to drive his save between it's ribs. Mal'fax followed up with a viscous blow from his hammer, caving in it's teeth and sending it reeling to the ground. Kra'vyx swiftly ran in to drive his kataras into it's neck, severing tendons before it swatted him away hard. Mal'fax quickly rushed to fill the gap, bringing his hammer down hard into it's head over and over until it stopped moving, cracking it's head open like a stubborn egg.

And Mal'fax noticed that he was having difficulty in cracking it's armoured head open.

"How did they know?!" a marine exclaimed on the comms. "How did they know where we were going?!

That was on everyone's mind. How did the xenomorphs know of the exact route they were taking? How COULD they have known?

But there was no time to debate that as there was the sudden issue of surviving to contend with.

From the look of it, the bugs were on the usual course of capturing hosts. First though, they were intent on eliminating resistance, hence destroying the trucks. And they were surprised by the amount of fire power the convoy was projecting out. But, they just kept on charging through the barrage of projectiles.

Those manning the pintle-weaponry fired out bolts and gouts of flame and those who wasn't were using their own weaponry. The flames worked in making the xenomorphs keeping their distance, giving them vital space. But, much to their shock, they found that most of the bolts were just glancing off the xenomorphs armoured bodies. And those that did hit home where not penetrating as deeply as before.

Externally, the xenomorphs looked the same but they were very much different.

"Fuck, they've grown more armour!" a marine realised.

"You think?!" another marine shouted over the comms. "Increase the power setting!"

Having quickly adjusted their bolt-gun's power setting to maximum, the bolts were doing better but the rate of fire was now reduced in order to build up the necessary charge. And that meant they had to place their shots even more precisely now. And with the xenomorphs, most likely the most dangerous organism in the galaxy, charging at them, this was easier said then done.

The Archangels in the meantime were focusing on taking out individual xenomorphs in concentrated volleys.

Sergei was finding it hard to inflict damage with his rifle. Used to packing his anti-material rifle's heavier calibre, Sergei had to choose his targets more carefully but he was able to fire faster. More so because on closer examination, he could see that the xenomorphs armour, though looking normal, had grown more denser and thicker, no doubt to increase resistance against impact from blades or bullets. And much to his shock, he found that their joints had been reinforced with scale-like plating. His recent barrage of shots proved so.

"_Yebat!_" Sergei cursed in russian, cocking his grenade launcher. "So much for blowing limbs off!"

He fired his grenade launcher at the closest xenomorph that was bounding towards him with it's maw wide open. And Sergei exploited that opening as the grenade shot in with a loud thunk into the back of it's throat. And upon impact, the shaped charge detonated, blowing out the back of the xenomorphs head in a shower of flame,shards of chitin and glowing brains as the xenomoprh tumbled into the snow.

Sergei cocked his grenade launcher with a satisfying chink, the spent shell pining out and trailing smoke as the bug skidded to his feet. He hoped he would not have needed that grenade later but he did nail one of the xenomorphs at least.

More screams were heard as more of the trucks were overpowered by flaming xenomorphs who got close and the marines occupying them were torn to shreds before the trucks exploded in flame from ruptured fuel tanks. And now, with a gap or two in their perimeter, the xenomorphs exploited them with horrific precision. Marines and colonists frantically rushed back to the transports, some of whom were cut down in mid-flight as the xenomorphs surged forward.

Hicks swivelled his smartgun around and fired a long burst right into the xenomorphs who were pulling at one of the transports. The colonists inside screamed in terror as the xenomorphs pulled at the armour plating, trying to pry the transport open to get the colonists within. The rounds just pinged off the xenomorphs hardened carapace while the bolt-guns on the transport were barely able to penetrate. The xenomoprhs were not even acknowledging they were being shot at.

"Getting a bit tight here, sir!" Hicks yelled over his smartgun.

Andrzej could definitely see that the xenomorphs were deliberately getting in close to deny anyone using their weapons in case they hit a friendly target instead. It was then and there that they would need their backup.

"Deploy the suits!" Andrzej shouted into his comms, firing his pulse rifle.

" I thought you'd never ask." a marine voxxed.

The larger transport's rear hatch blew open from their explosive release bolts with a sharp clang of metal, the ramp biting into the snow. And from within, the sound of servos was heard. And then out came the mechanised troopers. Five marines in modified P-6000 power-loaders, decked out in armour plating and brandishing flamers on one arm and arc-torches on the other, came charging out. Each had a name stencilled on their armoured compartments, no doubt call signs.

Dakkaman. Teshy. AAEdmonds. Khalthar. D'techie

The P-6000 power-loader was a decided advancement over the previous P-5000 model. Structural improvements and more refined controls allowed for much smoother movement meaning that the suits could now follow the most sensitive of commands instead of the lumbering hulks that the previous model was. Instead of hydraulic pincers, the suits now sported three fingered hands for increased dexterity and use. In fact, one of the training program's deadlines is to be able to pick up an egg without crushing it. And also for increased practicality, they can be outfitted with various modular equipment, a handy trait when one considers the ever present threat of xenomorphs and yautja hunters. They may not pack as much punch as military exosuits but in the right hands they could turn the tide.

And that was going to be useful at a time like this.

The loaders charged at the bugs that were trying to smash open the transports to get the colonists within. With swings of servo assisted force, the loaders delivered chitin cracking blows to the face or wrenching tugs at their dorsal spines of tail. Once the xenomorphs were away from the transports, the loaders unleashed a dousing of flame and sharp arcing slashes with their flamers and arc torches. Overpowering one xenomorph, Dakkaman and Teshy got their hands around it's head and neck. With a great deal of tugging and limb wrenching, they tore it's head from his shoulders in a torrent of acidic gore.

The bugs seemed surprised by this sudden resistance. Like they had not thought of the possibility of humans having such weapons. And they were equally surprised with how deadly they were.

The loaders were succeeding in keeping the xenomorphs away from the transports, the bugs in question watching them with caution from a distance. No doubt they were testing this unexpected obstacle when one lunged at Dakkaman. He held both arms out and grabbed it by the neck and chest with a loud crunch. Both marine and xenomorph wrestled, raw strength against augmented strength. The xenomorph lashed out at Dakkaman with both tail and inner jaws, trying to find a weak point in his armour. Dakkaman's response was to bring the arc-torch up to it's neck and slice a blade of electricity through chitin and flesh.

A xenomorph rammer charged at AAEdmonds with a loud roar, who held out her arms in readiness. The xenomorph's head connected with the loader's hands with a loud crunching thud. AAEdmonds lined up the flamer and unleashed a gout of flame right down it's open mouth, incinerating it's insides like a blast furnace.

Teshy managed to grab a flailing tail from his opponent, catching it under his arm. With a good yank, he pulled the xenomorph towards him and to the swinging backhand waiting for it. The force of impact was powerful enough to smash off the bug's lower jaw with a loud crunch and spraying of teeth and chitin

Khalthar and the xenomorph he was engaging circled one another, him flashing his arc-torch and the xenomorph growling. The xenomorph pounces at him and he ducked, bringing his torch right into it's chest, grabbing it with his other hand and slammed into the snow. He then proceeded to slice right through it's reinforced ribcage like performing an autopsy, slicing right up to it's neck and then through it's head.

D'techie gave a fierce shoulder bash to his xenomorph opponent in mid charge, bending his legs and with servo assisted force, bucked the bug over his shoulder before grabbing it by the tail. Driving a hydraulic foot into it's back, he pinned it to the ground, grabbed it;s tail and heaved. The tail snapped off at the base and before the xenomorph could get on it;s feet, D'techie drove the wicked barb into it's own head, effectively nailing it's head to the ground.

It would appear that the humans were now on equal standing with the xenomorphs.

"Ha ha!" Phillips shouted, firing his . "Not so tough when you're fighting something your own size, are you!?"

He was silenced when the wicked barbed tail of a xenomorph punched through his back and out his chest. The xenomoprh responsible flung the lifeless cadaver away just as the nearby marines realised they had been flanked. The spraying blood was an obvious indicator.

"Fuck, they're getting sneaky!" Kelso yelled, bringing his pulse rifle to bear.

Flambe reared his flamer in it's direction and let loose a gush of flame. The xenomoprh dodged the gout and reared up against them roaring loudly. The marines started backing off, Flambe staying in front with his flamer.

This was bad. These xenomorphs were now resorting to stealth, using their kin as expendable decoys and that gave them back the initiative.

It was apparent that the xenomorphs had to be fought with a new tactic. One which invoked proverbial balls.

The colonist Erickson, armed with a demo-charge, rushed up to the xenomorph while it was distracted by the marines. Punching the timer, he slammed it onto the base of the xenomorphs tail before frantically dashing away. The marines quickly retreated too. The xenomorph, feeling the charge adhere itself to it's hindquarters, turned to see the colonist running and looked down at the charge just as the timer read zero. The charge detonated, blasting the xenomorphs lower body off in a large spray of acid and carapace fragments.

The xenomorph, having had it's entire lower body blown to bits was easy prey for the marines to finish off. But, like many a battle showed, the xenomorphs quickly countered this tactic. The next colonist to try was speared by the target xenomorph's tail before being flung away without the bug even turning around to do so.

And, inevitably, the ammunition was starting to run out. And there were still six or seven xenomorphs in the fight.

"Can't we use the cannon?!" Kelso questioned on the comms, checking his ammo counter. "We're running low here!"

"They're too close. We'll take out half the convoy in the process!" Andrzej countermanded, coordinating his squad in volleys.

"Sir, we got new targets ahead." Sergei alerted, looking down his rifle's scope out to the distance to the convoy's left.

Andrzej turned to the sniper.

"Where?" he asked.

"Up on the ridge." Sergei indicated, keeping his rifle poised.

Andrzej held his binoculars up to his eyes and he saw what Sergei meant.

There were two hulking xenomorphs surrounded by a further dozen of their warrior subordinates in the snow haze distance. These ones looked far more deadly and much larger then what was assailing them at the moment. Their armour was formed into wicked pointed and curved arcs. Their claws looked like they could tear through solid rock like it was made of chalk. And the tails were armoured in a way that made it seem to have an inescapable grip.

However, one of them, the most ornate and larger of the two, was missing a tail. All it had was an armoured stump.

It was the bug that Alaric had sliced it's tail off when it was trying to make off with Ly'enta. The other bugs looked like it was subordinate to the former, making it was apparent that this xenomorph was the leader. From the way it was roaring out different notes, it was evidently giving orders.

"_Gówno_, it's that bug again!" Andrzej cursed.

"The bastard definitely has to be a praetorian." Sergei surmised, judging from they way it was acting. "It's leading the others."

Andrzej was quick on his comms with this information.

"Tank, you have a target!" Andrzej voxxed. "Shoot the tailless praetorian on the ridge, it'll disrupt their attack!".

"Roger that!" the tank commander acknowledged

This was sure-fire tactic in dealing with xenomorphs as it is confirmed that the higher castes coordinate the lesser castes. A prime example is that whenever the hive's queen is killed, the rest of the hive undergo a... neural backlash as their telepathic link is forcefully severed, not unlike how radio signals could be jammed. This is one of the few weaknesses that the xenomorphs possess and humanity had learned to take full advantage of it.

The tank's turret swivelled with the humming of servos to aim the cannon at the larger xenomorph. The cannon hummed as it charged up for the shot, it's energy coils glowing with power.

The Praetorian watched as the tank readied to fire. It cocked its head as it screeched a forceful tone. Immediately several of the xenomoprhs, three warriors and the other large xenomorph, in reserve charged forward towards the tank. Blocking the tanks line of fire.

"They're blocking my sight!" the gunner shouted.

"The bolt will get him regardless of how many bodies are between it!" the co gunner reminded.

"Fire!" the tank commander shouted.

The tank's cannon, with a final sharp charge up of energy, fired with a loud electrostatic crack. The snow falling around the barrel evaporated and in the shots path as the bolt shot out of the cannon faster then the sound could be heard, the snow cover billowing around from the round's passing. The flaming round impacted the first xenomorph right in the chest, punching right through it and tearing it into chunks in a shower of green acid. The bolt continued it's path, punching through the other warriors and nailing the praetorian to the cliff face behind cliff face, driving it several feet into the rock and ice. The big bug tried to wrench itself free when the gunner detonated the bolt. The blast blew the xenomorph to smoking chunks and blast some of the cliff into rubble in the process, sending large hunks of ice and rock throughout the immediate area. The cliff face collapsed shortly afterwards creating an avalanche to sweep a destructive path towards the convoy.

Fortunately, the drifts stopped a good several meters from the convoy.

Whoops were heard from the tank's crew as the cooling units for the cannon kicked in with a loud hiss.

"We got that praetorian!" the tank commander confirmed.

"Did you get the other one?" Andrzej asked.

"Yeah. It, the entire swarm and half the cliff face with it!" a crewman bragged.

"Can you confirm it? We need a visual." Andrzej demanded.

"I think so... wait a second." the gunner called.

When the snow cleared up, as much as it could in this snow fall, they were in for nasty surprise.

The tailless Praetorian was still standing. Standing right where it had been. In line of fire from the tank. And much to their surprise it wasn't buried. It was standing on the newly formed snow bank like nothing had happened. And from the snow bank, the rest of the hive burst forth in a manner that would evoke something from a nightmare.

"You fucking missed!?" a marine in the tank cursed.

"I was on target!" the gunner claimed "How could it dodge that?!"

The xenomorphs, momentarily paused at the sight and sound of this unexpected resistance to their attack, regained their composure. Within moments, maybe the hive mind coordinating them through a roar from the praetorian, they renewed their offensive with increased vigour, aiming for a specific point.

It was clear. The xenomorphs marked the tank as a primary target.

The Praetorian led the charge, streaming down the snow face with the rest of the hive behind it. The xenomorphs already in the convoy resumed their attentions in engaging the loaders.

"Oh shit, there they come!" A marine in the tank exclaimed.

The tank quickly pivoted on the spot to bring it's full armament to bear.

"Concentrate fire on the praetorian!" Andrzej commanded, running back to the transport.

The tanks armaments fired up with bolts flying through the air, the tanks cannon charging up before firing another shot at the Praetorian once more. The bolts impacted the xenomorphs, most of them pinging off but some scored home. The Praetorian on the other hand, effortlessly dodged the cannon's shot, moving in a blur as the round whizzed past.

"You see that?!" The gunner pointed out. "The fucker can dodge them!"

"Concentrate fire!" the tank commander ordered "It can't dodge everything!"

But, much to their horror, the Praetorian was impossibly dodging everything the cannon and sponsons could throw at it. And the bolts from the sponsons that did hit it by chance merely bounced off it's carapace.

The rushing xenomorphs broke through the perimeter, smashing aside the flamethrower trucks and the marines occupying them in their way. Some trucks exploded on impact, engulfing their occupants in flame while some would crush theirs in their throes.

It would appear that the first charge was to ascertain how much damage the tank could do. And having seen what it could do, The Preatorian was intent on eliminating the problem itself.

When the charge met the convoy, the xenomorphs ran straight for the tank, their numbers only being reduced by two. The Praetorian was joined by two warriors in it's charge to the tank, the rest were engaging the transports and the loaders protecting them. The loaders were now more hard-pressed then ever.

On the sponsons was lunged at by a xenomorph, the marine inside receiving a barbed tail right to the head through the view slit. It was immediately fended of with a flamer to it's face from the tank commander.

"Give us some support!" he yelled in the comms as the xenomorph pulled back to douse the flames.

Anyone who wasn't engaged by xenomorphs fired into the bugs engulfing the tank. But their shots were ineffective at discouraging them. Especially how the Praetorian had now reached the tank. It's subordinate then immediately withdrew so that it could deal with the tank personally.

The Praetorian then climbed up the tank, latching onto it's structure as bolt shells pinged harmlessly off it. The cannon fired again but the xenomorph again dodged the round. The projectile did nail another two xenomorphs in it's path so it wasn't a complete loss.

"Shit! Get it off us!" a marine inside yelled.

The only ones who could even hope to dislodge the Praetorian was the loaders. And they were still engaged with the xenomoprhs from the first wave. They only thing that could be done was to try and concentrate fire onto the Praetorian to hopefully distract it.

But the Praetorian was having none of it.

The Praetorian grabbed hold of the cannon's barrel, diverting it's aim away from it as another shot fired, impacting the ground with a loud bang and plume of snow. The marines inside tried to drive the turret to try and wrestle the xenomorph off, the gears whining from the strain but the xenomorph proved to be stronger. It heaved and effortlessly ripped off the cannon and part of the turret structure like it was made of flimsy card. The piece of hardware fell apart with a loud metallic crash as it hit the snow covered ground, shorting out from contact and exploding in a loud static flash. It then ripped off what was left of the turret, revealing a sparking gash that exposed the interior of the tank and the marines occupying it.

"Marines, get out of there!" Kelso yelled.

The marines inside fired at the behemoth with bolt-guns they had stashed inside. The bolts, even at this close range and at full power, pinged harmlessly off the behemoth's armoured skull. Even a gout of flames from the tank commander's flamer wasn't enough to deter it. The Praetorian growled in what would be a malevolent chuckle at the sign of this defiance as the flames would not take hold on it. Especially since the recesses of its body were now starting glow a bright eldritch green.

"Get out of there!" Kelso shouted out again.

But in truth, the marines had nowhere to run.

The behemoth then reared up it's head and, with a loud guttural roar, brought it's head down and from from it's mouth shot a torrent of bright green flame into the tank.

The marines inside screamed in both absolute terror and absolute pain as they could feel their armour, flesh and bones being eaten away by the green inferno, cell by cell. Jets of green acid-flame spurted out of the welds of the tanks armour, slowly forcing their way through it's entire structure. And chunks of the tank's armour where the flames made contact was starting to peel off and disintegrate into dust.

Those watching, and those who stopped fighting at the sight, were in complete shock and horror as the praetorian continued spewing more and more flame into the tank, increasing the intensity tenfold. The xenomorphs paused their attack and watched on in what would seem to be pride in their power. Showing the humans that nothing would stop them now.

"Jesus Christ!" a colonist screamed in terror.

Even the most battle hardened marine was not immune to the terror.

The side hatch opened, more accurately fell off it's melted hinges, and a marine engulfed in green flame and burned right down to the bone in some places, especially on the face, heaved out of the hatch. He gave one last guttural scream of all consuming pain and terror before tumbling out of the hatch, hitting the snow and disintegrating into a black stain on impact.

The tank's acid-flame soaked superstructure finally gave out at that point, groaning with a loud metallic creak before collapsing in a large plume of green smoke and flame. The Praetorian reared it's head up and roared in victory as the last remnants of the tank turned to dust, leaving nothing but charred and melted blackened hunks of metal, with burnt fragments of bones within, in the melted snow.

The humans' trump card had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. And with it, the morale just folded.

"Why did I even bother making a tank?!" Karl fumed, throwing his tools doen in the snow in frustration.

"Can bugs do that?" Sarah yelled Hicks. "Can they do that!?"

Hicks was the most shocked. He had seen something that he thought xenomorphs were not capable of doing. He had seen xenomorphs swarm like a tide from a hive. He had seen them burn through the hull of the ship using their blood. But he never saw xenomorphs breath fire like dragons.

In fact, he was so shocked he didn't even notice that his smartgun had ran out of ammunition and was buzzing when he shakily squeezed the trigger.

"I don't know shit!" he shouted, ditching his smartgun and bailing his position.

And not a moment to soon as a xenomorph lashed out at him and was just inches away from taking his head off. He answered that attack by drawing his shotgun and firing a slug into it's open mouth. While it wasn't enough to fatally harm it, it did serve to stun it for a few vital moments. Hicks landed on his feet, jumping from the truck as the xenomorph lashed down at him. He fired again, the slug punching into its face but not penetrating even at this range.

The xenomoprh hissed at this show of defiance, sliding off the transport as the Archangels converge on it, swords drawn. The squad delivered punishing blows to it's head and neck in an attempt to decapitate it. It just continuing stalking after Hicks, shrugging off blows like they weren't even there. That was when the squad focused on it's limbs, stabbing into it's legs and arms to pin it down.

The xenomoprh struggled as the squad pulled an pushed their weight on to keep the bug still as Hicks ran up. Hick's, exploiting this moment, rammed his shotgun right down the xenomorphs mouth, plugging the muzzle in the roof of it's mouth.

"Eat this!" Hicks yelled, squeezing the trigger.

Having a shotgun loaded with slugs pressed point-blank to the roof of it's mouth was guaranteed to have a consequence. And that was the slug punching right into the xenomorphs's skull, the heavily armoured cranium causing the slug to ricochet around inside, pulping it's brain into mush.

The xenomorph collapsed into a twitching haemorrhaging wreck as Hicks cocked his shotgun. His shotgun, in much foresight, was made out of acid resistant alloys so all Hicks dis was to dunk it in the snow to offset the acid.

Andrzej looked up at the Praetorian, his eyes widening from what he saw and he frantically gave the order.

"MOVE!" Andrzej yelled, grabbing Sergei by his collar when he saw the Praetorian turned it's gaze to them.

And the Praetorian was glowing again.

The Archangels didn't need telling twice as the sprinted as fast as they could in the snow as the Praetorian reared its head and then roared at them. The Praetorian shot out a glowing ball of green fire, crackling with crackling energy. Like it had shot out a green comet.

"GET DOWN!" Andrzej yelled as the fireball came right at them.

The Archangels dived into the snow, half burying themselves and covering their heads as the fireball roared over them, evaporating the snow around them in a searing cloud of steam. The fireball hit the transport, engulfing it in green flame before it exploded with tremendous force blowing wreckage in a massive fiery arc.

The initiates, having just dispatched the xenomoprh they were fighting, heard the explosion and turned to the direction they heard it. And they saw the transport was now nothing more then a smouldering blasted wreck. The Archangel quickly picked themselves up and ran from their position. Away from the initiates.

"My trophy!" Fel'tak screamed in horror.

"Forget it!" Mal'fax urged, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We've got bigger problems!"

To be more accurate, there was a great many LITTLE problems.

That was when they heard screams coming from the transports. The xenomorphs had a trump card of their own. And it was the reason why the marines from the lead truck met their demise.

The Archangels and the initiates saw them with added shock.

The transports and the loaders guarding them, were being engulfed in a swarm of dozens of smaller xenomorphs. These ones were nothing like the ones seen so far. The were about three to five feet tall and they were covered in a menagerie of sharp quills and brandished oversized claws. Any marine or colonist unfortunate to be overrun by them were torn limb from limb.

The loaders were being engulfed by the swarm. The xenomoprhs smaller size of swifter speed was playing against the loaders larger size. They were using their numbers to pin down the loaders, slicing at servos and power cables to immobilise them. Even when the loaders landed crushing blows from their fists, gouts of flame and blades of arcing power from their weaponry, the swarm was unyielding. Losing a limb, having their heads caved in or being on fire was not deterring them. If anything, their dead bodies served to weigh the loaders down even more.

Dakkaman fired his flamer as a dozen of the swarmers pounced at him, immolating them but they kept on running, pouncing when they were in range. The first two were swatted away with no trouble, smashing their bodies in limp piles, but the next four, engulfed in flames, pounced onto his arm, over balancing him. The rest piled onto his back and chest, sending him tumbling over into the snow with a loud dense thud, spraying fire in his wake.

The rest of the loaders were facing the same fate. Their larger size was being used against them and once they hit the ground they were as good as dead. In fact, the swarmers tripped up Teshy and he crashed hard into the snow face first next to Dakkaman.

The rest of the loaders ganged up, but more accurately was forced, into a circle around the fallen loaders.

"Come on, we got to help them!" Mal'fax yelled, running to the loaders.

He was soon stopped in his tracks by several xenomorphs bounding towards them. The initiates were quick to regroup and they were soon engaged once more.

The loaders were pretty much on their own for now.

Flambe, who was the only marine close to the loaders as the rest of his unit ran the moment the swarmers burst from the snow, had a plan to counter them. A plan that would need a hefty pair of proverbial balls

"Fuck this!" Flambe shouted, reaching from his flamer. "Come and get me you little shits!"

He unleashed a gout of flame, attracting their attention and engulfing three swarmers on top of Teshy. And the flamer gave a loud gaseous gurgle and the flames died out.

"Shit." Flambe cursed as his distraction died.

That was when the swarm took notice of him.

The swarm, as Flambe was hoping, picked him out as a more exposed target then the loaders. One that didn't have at least an inch of armour plating protecting him.

"Come on!" Flambe yelled, dumping the empty tank from his back and running to the nearest abandoned truck. "180lbs of meat, you know you want it!"

The swarm chased him in hot pursuit, quickly gaining ground with the marine. Everyone took the chance in getting the colonists out of the wrecked transport and helping the loaders to their feet.

"That's it!" he goaded, flipping them off and whooping. "I hope you like fast food!"

Flambe's plan, as much as he could quickly think, involved drawing the swarm together in one place and then hopefully wiping them out in one big explosion. And the closest thing that Flambe thought of at that critical moment was the fuel tank of the truck he was running to. Now all he had to do was bait the swarm, get the truck to blow and get out of there.

"I hope you like it crispy!" he taunted to the swarm on his heels. "I got the spice right here!"

Flambe reached for his belt when he felt the first of the swarmers landed on him, digging claws into his soot-stained armour. Flambe crashed into the snow, rolling right next to the truck and the rest of the swarm converged on him. Flambe struggled to crawl further to the truck, lashing out with his arm to punch those getting too close to his head. but the swarm weighed him down, dragging him back slashing at him and tearing the armour and skin off his back. After much pain driven shuffling and reckoning he had been sliced right down to the bone, with one heave he had finally reached his target.

The fuel tank.

Flambe pulled out what he was trying to get from his belt. A grenade that he set to impact detonation by twisting the dial.

"Going out with a bang!" he declared, slamming the live grenade into the tank.

The transport exploded in an almighty conflagration of flame and flying bits of mangled metal. Flambe, the ravenous swarm and anything near them was consumed by the flames. Swarmers that were not consumed by flame were hurled far like shredded ragdolls, When the explosion died down, all that was left was a flaming wreck and the charred bodies of the marine and the swarm.

His effort had helped in thinning out the swarm to a few roasted stragglers that were staggering around by the wreck but the xenomoprhs were not deterred by this sudden loss. And now they were able to resume what they had set out to do.

Capturing hosts.

The Archangels, who had somehow fought their way to the outskirts of the battle, halted at the sight of the colony's defeat as the xenomorphs converged from all sides.

Mac looked down to his pulse rifle and he saw that the counter was reading zero.

"Out of ammo captain." he said, dumping his rifle.

"Same here" Karl added.

Sarah cursed in French as her pulse rifle buzzed in depletion. Hicks pulled the slide of his shotgun and the last shell pinged out.

"Dry!" he yelled, holstering his shotgun and drawing his sword.

In fact, none of the marines in the convoy had any ammunition left. The xenomorphs had been soaking up all that punishment and the humans had only taken out maybe a third of the attack. And those bugs who had already taken damage were regenerating their wounds and were charging back into the fray.

Suffice to say, the humans could no longer put up any more resistance.

"What do we do, _Kapitan_?" Sergei asked, calmly surveying the scene with his rifle's scope. "There's no way out."

He was right. Even if they tried to make a run for it, they would only be giving the xenomorphs the thrill of a hunt. There is no way that they, Spec Ops troopers and the most decorated squad in the history of earth, could survive on this planet, be it with or without xenomorphs.

Andrzej sighed as he kept his eyes on the xenomorphs that were even now mopping up the last vestiges of resistance. Marines were either slaughtered like stuck pigs or pinned into the ground before being restrained by webbing that the xenomorphs secreted. Colonists were torn out of wrecked transports and herded into groups like livestock, parents clutching their terrified children. The loaders, owing that they had shown the most resistance were shown no mercy as they were ganged up on and had their already damaged chassis and servos torn apart in sparks and the pilots inside were ripped from their compartments to be violently thrown into the colonists, landing in badly banged up heaps.

In the distance, opposite them on the other side of the convoy, The initiates were still barely holding on. But by the number of dead xenomorphs at their feet, about five in all, they had done more then could be asked of them.

"We all knew this was a long shot." Andzrej admitted, raising his sword. "Only one thing left: take these fuckers out with us!"

With that, the Archangels charged in the fray, brandishing their swords and yelling a warcry. Each archangel, jumping onto the backs of the nearest xenomorphs, driving their blades deep into gaps in their armoured backs or necks, intending on taking one out with them. Some of the angels drew their pistols, firing their entire magazines into the gaps . The xenomorphs reacted to this sudden display of suicidal heroism, reaching for the archangels with either arms or tails and wrenching them off

Kelso, however in a stark manner of defiance, was putting up a hell of a last stand on one of the wrecked trucks, using the still functional flamer with one hand and firing a scavenged bolt gun with the other. At his feet were two dead xenomorphs roasting in flames.

Kelso in this predicament epitomes the meaning of Ultimate Bad Ass.

"You like that!" he yelled, dousing the xenomorphs in flame. "You want some more!"

Until he got flanked.

Kelso looked up behind him when he noticed a shadow fall around him. Just in time to see a xenomorph lash it's tail at him into his bandaged side. The impact crumpled his armour and his ribs with a loud crack, the razor sharp bladed barb tearing into him as he was catapulted away across the remains of the convoy, yelling in pain. He impacted the flaming wreckage of a truck, tumbling over it on impact hitting the ground hard on the other side and out of view.

"Sarge!" a marine yelled before one of the xenomorphs pinned him to the ground.

The initiates, who had now been completely surrounded, were set upon by the xenomorphs and despite putting up fierce resistance and managing to kill another xenomorph, they were swiftly overpowered by the xenomorphs superior numbers. Kra'vyx, by sheer luck, had managed to slip away but he was soon pursued by one of the xenomorphs.

It lashed out with it's tail smacking Kra'vyx in the back and sending him flying out away from the others. He rolled into snow, panting and on the verge of terror as he rolled to his knees, finding himself thrown from the convoy. Looking back, he jumped in fright of the xenomorph that was coming towards him.

Kra'vyx knew that he, an initiate who had not even earned a trophy, was no match for this ancient breed of bug. The xenomorph however seemed to be enjoying toying with Kra'vyx, making the kill to come ever mor sweter

Kra'vyx frantically scrabbled backwards as the xenomorphs prowled after him, toying with him by lashing out with it's tail and deliberatly missing him. That was until he backed right into the smouldering wreck of one of the trucks of the perimeter. Looking around, he could see that xenomorphs had wiped out all resistance and were even now gathering up the survivors to be used as hosts. The Archangels were bunched up, restrained by the xenomorphs and futilely trying to hack their way out from the tail's armoured grip. The colonists and any surviving marines were being bound up by webbing and his friends were even now pinned to the ground ready to be bound up too.

A screech brought his attention back to the xenomorph in front of him and Kra'vyx, seeing that this was it, could not keep his terror in any longer.

"Alaric, help us!" Kra'vyx screamed desperately as the xenomorph pounced for him, maw opened and a loud roar filling his his ears.


	27. Chapter 26

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

as I promised here is the next chapter, the one that you lot have all been nagging at me to post. In this chapter, The convoy has been wrecked and those who survived the vicious xenomorph onslaught are being rounded up to become the next converts of the hive. However, as the title suggests, things take a drastic and unexpected turn as the xenomorphs get on the receiving end of a saviour who seems very familiar.

I worked feverishly to get this done by Christmas, an almost purely action chapter, and I hope I have not ballsed it up.

To those who think that their cameos are over, you are mistaken as I will be including you guys later on in the story. In an even more badass role.

As always, read away, leave a comment ( update requests in PM please) and I will see you on the next chapter.

* * *

><p>Chapter 26- Deus Ex Machina<p>

It was at that point, at the darkest hour, that help came from the Heavens itself.

A bright flash with thunder roaring behind it erupted in front of Kra'vyx, blinding his vision and the xenomorph was hit brutally in the chest by what looked like a lightning bolt with a loud static impact, complete with arcing sparks of power. Kra'vyx instinctively covered his eyes as the xenomorph crashed hard into the snow, it's momentum causing it to tumble violently towards him, wracked with electrical arcs.

All the other xenomorphs halted what they were doing when they heard the thunder crack, looking towards their tumbling brood kin. And the humans and yautja, despite being bound up in webbing or hacking their way out of it, paused at the bright flash and looked to see what just happened.

There wasn't any snowstorms, or even thunderclouds, raging around them, so where did a lightning bolt come from?

Kra'vyx hesitantly uncovered his eyes as the xenomorph skidded up to him on it's back, it's spines crumpled beneath it and racked with arcing energy. Kra'vyx saw that the lightning bolt, much to his surprise, was still impaled into it's chest, ebbing and arcing with power that was slowly fading.

When the surging electrical discharge dissipated, the lightning bolt was revealed to be an intricately made spear of some kind. Kra'vyx could make out that the haft was about eight feet tall, with four feet lodged inside the xenomorph, and was topped with a footlong butt spike like a tall four sided pyramid.

The xenomorph strained to lift it's head, its armoured hide crackling from the strain and screeching weakly. It would soon be put out of it's misery. At that point, a figure in front of Kra'vyx in a large plume of snow, bringing an arm down on the xenomorph's neck. A solid thunk of metal connecting with a chitinous crack was heard. The xenomorph's head rolled down the snowdrifts, trailing a hissing stream of acid in it's wake.

The figure then stood up, hefting it's arm and was revealed to everyone.

It was what looked like an ancient greek hoplite. A hoplite clad a futuristic suit of armour, incredibly advanced and ornate yet resembling armour worn as in ancient times, glowing ornamentation adorning it. On it's back, in stark contrast to the blank surroundings was a crimson red cloak. The helmet was that of the intimidating Corinthian style with a large horsehair-like crest adorning it, trailing down it's back. Under the helmet was what looked like heavily ornamented hair, looking like ornate mechanical tendrils, trailing past the waist. The greaves it wore had winged effigies that swayed in the air. On it's left arm was a massive aspis shield adorned with a up-pointed arrow shape and a triangle-like symbol beneath, the peak meeting halfway up the arrow's shaft. And acid blood dripped from the bottom from where it decapitated the xenomorph, fizzing on the metal that did not dissolve.

What was most out of place on the hoplite was the inclusion of firearms, a rifle and a pistol, of an unknown design, holstered on it's back and chest. The pistol was adjacent to another pistol that was housed in a conventional holster of human make that was really out of place.

The hoplite turned it's head towards Kra'vyx so that the initiate got a side view of the helmet. The helmet, as intimidating as it was had an odd decoration on the cheek plates. Swirling blue tinged silvery flames seeping down from the eye. The eye lens was a vibrant blue with a brighter circle in the middle, almost acting like an iris. When the circle turned to his direction, Kra'vyx was sure the wearer was looking at him.

Kra'vyx recoiled in sight, rearing his kataras for defence thinking that the figure was going for him next. But he was in for a surprise.

"Kra'vyx, get to cover." The hoplite ordered in a synthesised but oddly familiar male voice before he turned his head towards the convoy. "Everyone clear the field!"

The hoplite walked forward, wrenching the spear out of the dead xenomorph with a skilled flourish, trailing lightning in it's wake. He then strode forwards towards the xenomorphs, his armour flashing in pulses. Kra'vyx's kataras fell out of his grip when he heard the voice, clattering at his feet. He blinked a few times like he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

"That voice?" Kra'vyx murmured, his arms lowering as he tried to process what he had just hearded.

The hoplite banged on his shield with his spear in a clear sign of challenge, sparks of blue erupting from it. He then yelled a challenge in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. The xenomorphs relinquished their prisoners, who wasted no time in scrambling for safety, in sight of this individual who would dare defy them. The initiates were quick to find cover the moment the xenomorphs let them go, diving behind a wrecked truck. The Archangels had their swords up as the xenomorphs dumped them hard into the snow before pacing towards the hoplite, keeping their blades ready. They lowered them as they realised that the xenomorphs were focused on the hoplite.

"What's going on?" Karl asked, picking webbing off his shoulders. "Who's that?"

Andrzej hefted Hicks to his feet, keeping his eye on the hoplite.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that spear." Andrzej decided, getting Sergei to his feet. "Get everyone together!"

The Archangels quickly went about getting any survivors nearby together while they had the chance. Those who were out of reach made for any cover they could find. That said, the only cover was that of wrecked transports, trucks and downed loaders. The pilots of which, badly banged up and half-conscious from their defeat, were dragged to safety by considerate colonists.

Mal'fax and his friends were quick on their feet too, heading for cover far away from the field behind the Archangels and their group.

"Who is that?!" Lyenta asked.

"Bugger who that is, I lost my trophy!" Fel'tak complained.

"Be thankful that's all you lost!" Mal'fax reminded, before he realised something. "Where's Kra'vyx?!"

he looked back and he saw Kra'vyx his back to a wrecked truck, looking as if he was in some kind of trance.

"Kra'vyx, get to cover!" he yelled out as he and the others reached their hiding place.

Kra'vyx was not moving however. He was transfixed in place after hearing the hoplite speak to him.

The hoplite banged on his shield again, causing arcs of power to flash around the shield and over him like a wave. The xenomorphs turned to face him.

"Come on!" he goaded in english, holding his arms out in mockery. "What's the matter? Don't you recognise a hated foe!? Or do you cower at the sight of a spartan!?"

The xenomorphs screeched at him as the Praetorian thundered up. The Praetorian roared loudly, echoing throughout the entire valley. All the xenomorphs amassed in front of it, ready to attack.

"That's right." the hoplite goaded, flourishing his spear. "I'm ready for you bastards this time!"

He then struck his shield again and this time, a wave of energy erupted from it, blowing a vast cloud of snow through the air. The xenomorphs roared and charged at the hoplite. The Praetorian held back in order to study this intruder, using it's kin as xenomorph guinea pigs.

"Now the real fight begins!" The hoplite roared, charging at the horde, armour flaring into life. "Time to DIE!"

Those watching this battle to come would be both amazed and utterly mind-blown.

The hoplite bent his legs, his greaves' wings glowing and with an mighty push, jumped hard and fast right at the lead xenomorph, sending a shock wave that billowed out snow from his launch like an explosion. In flight, he held his spear out and, his aim dead on, speared the lead xenomorph right in the face before it had time to react, the broad spearhead and ten foot shaft easily punching out the back of it's head. The hoplite flipped forward, wrenching the xenomorph off it's legs, landing on his feet and slinging the lifeless corpse over his shoulder and into the xenomorphs in front of him. The xenomorphs buckled into a heap as their dead hive kin smashed into them. Acid blood steamed on the spear but the spear showed no signs of breaking down.

The xenomorphs, having just realised that the intruder has penetrated their lines, span on their skidding heels and converged on the hoplite. The hoplite however would prove to be more then a mere nuisance. The hoplite, despite being heavily armoured, proved to be more agile as he dodged their swipes and jabs in blurring speeds, even jumping on and off the xenomorphs trying to maul him, almost like he was not wearing any armour. And every time he blocked with his shield, blue sparks erupted as the attack was repelled with substantial force, causing the xenomorph attacking to be rocked back. Every counter attack he made with his spear just punched right through their armoured carapace like it was made of soft chalk, puncturing vital organs within in.

Those watching couldn't believe what they were seeing. After everything they had been unleashing at the xenomorphs just to slow them down, be it military hardware or heavy duty mining gear, this stranger was slicing through xenomorphs like they weren't armoured in the slightest. And what's more, it was with weapons that shouldn't even be effective against there particular xenomorphs.

Mal'fax, who had taken shelter with his friends behind a burned out truck, looked on with awe, his jaw slack as he watched the hoplite engaged the xenomorphs with the skill of a seasoned warrior. Fel'tak was eyeing the spear as it punched into xenomoprhs again and again. Ly'enta on the other hand, couldn't stop looking at the hoplite's armoured physique.

The hoplite dodged the biting maw of a xenomoprh, the bug's teeth snapping with a loud crack. And he swung his shield dead centre into it's face. The xenomorph's face caved in with a loud cacophony of shattering teeth and bone, supplanted by a shower of blue sparking arcs. The xenomorphs was sent reeling back from the impact, the remnants of it's face spraying a wide arc of sizzling` fragments.

Talk about literally smashing someone's face in.

A xenomorph pounced at the hoplite when his back was turned. The hoplite, however, brought the butt spike of his spear up, impaling the xenomorph in the chest before driving it into the snow and bringing his shield's rim down into it's neck with a loud crack. The bug's head rolled from it's severed neck.

The hoplite, seeing two xenomorphs charge towards him from both flanks, jumped high and fast in a fluid motion. The xenomorphs narrowly avoided crashing into each other as the hoplite flipped in the air. His spear glowed, lightning arcing off it as he heaved his arm. The hoplite then threw the spear down hard below into the mass of xenomorphs congregating waiting for him to come down. The spear flashed into life as a thunderbolt, screaming down towards the xenomorphs. The spear impacted the ground in a loud flash and crack of thunder, creating an arcing sphere of lightning that threw the xenomoprhs back in smoking, electrified arcs.

The hoplite landed deftly on his feet as the storm subsided. But no sooner did he landed that a fresh group of xenomorphs, five in total, charged towards him.

The hoplite spun around, waving his shield arm out towards the xenomorphs. The shield disconnected from his arm and went flying through the air like a large discus, humming and glowing with power. The shield smacked the first four xenomorphs aside like bowling pins before it lodged itself into the chest of the fifth with a loud chitinous thunk. The xenomoprh screeched as it tumbled backwards, the shield stuck fast in it's chest with just over half of it lodged within, crushing it's vital organs into mush. Another of it's hive kin, this time a rammer, was quick to fill the gap.

The hoplite braced himself as the xenomorph got within ramming distance. The xenomoprh gave out a loud roar as it bucked it;s plough-like head into the hoplite. The hoplite, much to the xenomorph's surprise, just grabbed it by the head and rode it out, his feet skidding through the snow. Then the hoplite dug his feet in and they both skidded to a halt. The xenomoprh tried to shove back the hoplite as before, trying to crush him under it's weight, but the hoplite had other plans. The hoplite swiftly grabbed the xenomorph around the neck, pulling with inhuman strength as the armour glowed more intensively. The xenomorph struggled to break free from this vice-like neck lock as the hoplite wrenched it's head ninety degrees with a loud crunch before reaching under it's neck. The xenomorph gave a loud screech before a sudden song of metal was heard and the xenomoprh's head was flying through the air, trailing acid in it's arc from the hoplite's arm. The headless corpse slumped into the snow before the hoplite, acid blood spurting out of it's severed neck. The severed head landing in the snow a dozen or so feet away.

Those watching were flabbergasted. Especially when they saw the implement that resulted in the xenomorphs decapitation.

The hoplite was brandishing in the air a vicious-looking, two foot long forward curved short sword in his hand, acid steaming on it's blade. He then flourish his sword and readied it as more xenomorphs surrounded him.

The Archangels, who had taken cover behind an exposed rock formation with a burned out truck draped over it, couldn't help but look at their own swords, which failed to even scratch the xenomorph's carapace, with a mixture of surprise and a touch of envy. These blade, the best that humanity could made, was essentially cutlery by comparison. The initiates were doing the exact same thing with their weapons, except for Mal'fax on account of his hammer which was a blunt instrument. Though that being said, he was somewhat envious of the shield.

The xenomorphs charged at the hoplite once more from all directions. The hoplite dodged each charge before counter attacking with a slash or hacking to the limbs. Arms, tails and bits of pointy carapace were sliced cleanly off by the curved blade, whose forward curving design made it exceedingly efficient in slicing through flesh and bone. One xenomoprh that charged him dead on had it's head sliced clean in two diagonally, literally running into the swinging blade as the hoplite stepped smartly to the side as the xenomorph skidded into a heap, trailing its brain behind it.

The hoplite threw the kopis horizontally, the blade humming through the air. The kopis sliced through the neck of one xenomoprh, arterial acid gushing like a fountain, before it impaled the head of another xenomorph, cutting right to the brain stem.

The hoplite had now lost spear, shield and kopis, marking himself as helpless. But the hoplite simply surveyed the xenomorphs, no doubt planning his next move. The xenomorphs, having been losing so many of their numbers, were keeping their distance. Not that you could blame them. The hoplite had already decimated the horde to only the praetorian and four warriors.. Those watching from the sides could only wonder what surprises the hoplite had in store.

The hoplite reached for his hips and much to every onlooker's mind-boggling surprise, especially Kra'vyx, pulled out a pair of familiar axes. Axes that belonged to someone who was thought to be dead. And the blades of the axes seemed to shimmer in the air.

The hoplite flourished them, holding out his arms to goad an attack, before a xenomorph came charging at him. The hoplite charged forward and, just as the xenomorph came into range, he jumped hard and fast flipping fluidly over the xenomorph, lashing with both axes. The hoplite landed on his knees as the xenomorph staggered on the next few steps. It then keeled over and hit the snow as it's head fell apart into clean halves in a tide of acidic cranial matter.

The hoplite rose to his feet and flourished his axes before turning towards the next xenomorph that was rampaging towards him. He fluidly parried and evaded the swiping claws and lashing tail before he responded with a fierce swipe or chop.

For the initiates and Archangels watching, there was something about the hoplite's movements that seemed odd. His fighting style seemed... familiar.

In short time, the hoplite had slain the xenomorphs with a dazzling array of counter-attacks. Each one rent the xenomorphs limb from limb until there was body parts littering the field around him, twitching from severed nerves. The hoplite surveyed the surroundings, the lenses on his helmet flashing. Searching for any xenomorph stragglers.

That was when a xenomorph pounced out of the snow in a large cloud front of him, intending to tackle him to the ground for an easy kill. The hoplite didn't seem at all surprised by this sudden appearance. Especially how he had another set of eyes watching out for danger.

A shrill avian call was heard, echoing throughout the valley. And then from the sky, a streaming bolt of light shot down from the heavens. The bolt impacted the xenomorph with great force, punching right through it's armoured hide and bursting out in a bright flash. The xenomorph screeched as it fell apart, energy consuming it's body until it had been reduced to dust. The hoplite just stood as the xenomoprh collaspped into dust around him, leaving only a darkened stain on the snow surrounding him. The stream of light, which had now taken on a pair of wing flew up to the hoplite before landing gently on his shoulder. The light then died away, revealing a shining silver hawk with shield-like crest and diamond eyes.

Now this was something that no one had expected to see on this planet. A lifeform that was not a xenomorph. Although, judging from it's appearance, this hawk didn't look like it could be native to this planet.

The hoplite holstered the axes before holding his arms out, the gauntlets glowing. The spear, standing tall in the snow, the sheild, lodged in it's target's chest, and the kopis, stuck in the head of it's xenomorph's head, started to glow and quiver. They then sharply slid out of their prisons and flew back towards the hoplite in arcing patterns. The shield connected to the hoplite's arm with a soft thunk, an articulated shield ring encircling the hoplite's forearm. The spear landing in his open hand and the kopis landed cleanly in it's scabbard in one fluid motion.

The hoplite then turned towards where the Praetorian was. The bug in question had relocated to the outer edge of the of the ruined convoy.

"Just you and me now." The hoplite said, pointing his spear at the Praetorian. "Come on. Show me what you still got after millennia rotting in that prison."

The Praetorian at this point decided that this sudden change in the tide of battle had gone on long enough. It would deal with the problem itself.

The praetorian charged forth with a roar, it's body glowing once again as it kicked up plumes of snow in it's wake. The hoplite's armour glowed too as he charged forth, the hawk taking off from his shoulder and soaring forth.

"Here comes the climatic duel." Hicks said, ducking deeper behind cover.

"if this guy made mincemeat out of these bugs, he shouldn't;t have any problem with this bastard." Sergei said, watching through his rifle's scope.

The hawk gave a loud call as it glowed once more, increasing speed. It dropped to the snow plain, kicking up snow as it passed over. It pulled up just before the Praetorian with a bright flash, creating an obscuring snow cloud. Out from the snow cloud, the hoplite jumped through with his spear out. The Praetorian dodged the incoming thrust as the hoplite landed on his feet before lashing out with a claw. The hoplite blocked it with his shield, blue sparks erupting as claws hit shield before thrusting his spear again. The Praetorian parried and lashed with the other claw, causing the hoplite to roll out of the way. The hoplite rolled to his feet and drove his spear into the Praetorian's side, the broad head punching into it's armoured hide but failed to penetrate. He was surprised when he found that this bug was more heavily armoured then the rest of it's kin.

The Praetorian grabbed the spear and pulled, yanking the hoplite off his feet. The hoplite was quick to twist in the air, slamming his shield's rim into it's face. The hoplite landed deftly on his feet as the Praetorian reeled back from the impact. But it quickly recovered and was onto the hoplite once again with added ferocity and zeal. The hoplite dodged the swipes and lashes raining down towards him, blocking those he couldn't dodge, finding that the Praetorian was resistant to the shield's energy field.

He had to switch tactics.

The hoplite quickly holstered his spear, the weapon retracting into an inert form like a yautja combi-stave before placing it behind him on his hip. And he then drew the kopis, blade down like a knife, in one fluid swipe, catching the Praetorian's right hand in mid swipe. His aiming couldn't have been more perfect as the blade caught the wrist, slipping between armoured carapace and slicing the Praetorian's claws off. The Praetorian screeched as it's appendage landed in the snow, acid blood spewing out of the open stump.

The hoplite swiftly flipped the kopis blade up and attacked. The Praetorian deflected the incoming slashes, the blade digging deep into it's carapace but still not penetrating. The hoplite was intent on finding a gap to exploit, even if he had to whittle the Praetorian's armour down shard by shard.

However, the Praetorian proved to be much harder to kill then the hoplite expected.

The Pareatorian got past the shield and the hoplite took a vicious swipe to his lower left side, sparks erupting from where the Praetorian's claws made contact with his armour. He was sent flying through the air before landing on his shield and skidding several feet before rolling to his feet. Those watching were certain that the hoplite would have been disembowelled by a blow of such force. When the hoplite stood up however, they were shocked to see that the armour had taken the full brunt of the damage.

The hoplite's linothorax was gouged and sparking from where the Praetorian's claws raked across his side. The inner suit was undamaged however. The hoplite looked down to the damage and, to everyone's surprise and even his, the armour reacted to the damage. The armour glowed as if bleeding light and that was when the armour healing itself like a flesh wound healing. The soft metallic sound of shifting metal was heard as the armour reformed itself until there was no evidence of any damage.

Sergei's jaw dropped when he saw it unfold in his scope.

"Hicks, does metal regenerate?" he asked, wanting to be remind of how physics worked.

"No, why?" Hicks answered.

"That guy's armour just healed itself." Sergei revealed.

Hicks' reaction was instant. Especially to someone with a mind like his.

"bullshit!" Hicks said in disbelief, butting Sergei away from his scope and peering in to see for himself. "That impact should've disembowelled him!"

Sergei shoved him back.

"Obviously it didn't." Sergei stated. "That guy is wearing... I don't know, that stuff you find in fantasy tales."

"Shut up!" Andrzej hushed, pointing out towards the Praetorian. "Something is up with the bug."

He was right.

The Praetorian glowed once again, energy flaring up from within. That was when the sound of chitin and flesh cracking and crunching was heard. The stumps that was it's tail and hand was bulging and pulsating. The armour plates on it's body was glowing and expanding.

From it's wrist, new bones were pushing out from the stump, cracking into position as tendrils of flesh and ligaments snaked their way around them to reform the hand. In it's place at frightening speed was a new claw, complete with large, sleek and utterly lethal talons. From the stump, a new tail erupted in a torrent of ichor. Heavily armoured, segmented, tipped with a tri-bladed barb like a harpoon, this was like the next step as far as xenomoprh tails was concerned. Especially how arcs of green lightning was arcing between the prongs.

To those watching, it was as if the xenomorph had just defied everything that was known about the entire species.

"You gotta be fucking kidding." Andrzej cursed in his binoculars. "It's grown its limbs back!"

Hicks once again butted Sergei from his scope so he could see for himself.

"Bugs can't do that!" Hicks objected.

"Not the bugs we're used to fighting." Mac pointed out, keeping one hand on his katana. "This bug is something else."

"How the fuck is this thing getting stronger?!" Karl asked.

"This is Darwinism on steroids." Hicks remarked, giving Sergei back his scope.

And right now, both man and bug were illustrating that concept.

The hoplite reacted to this new threat, dashing towards the Praetorian in a glowing blur. The Praetorian did the same, lashing out with it's new tail. From it's tail, green eldritch lightning surged forth in arcing bolts with each swipe. This show caused everyone who was not in cover to duck further. The hoplite evaded the lightning bolts, each one impacted the snow with bright flashes. The Praetorian spun mid stride, lashing it's tail out and sending forth a green arcing wave of eldritch power. The hoplite held his shield out in front of him, blue energy shimmering on it's the surface as he continued his sprint. The wave made contact and was deflected by the shield as a sphere of energy pushed the eldritch storm around him.

The hoplte's greaves glowed and with one forcefull push, he rocketed though the air for one hell of a dropkick. The Praetorian roared out a gout of flame from it's maw, engulfing the hoplite in a blaze of acid green. To many, that would spell the end for anyone foolish enough to be engulfed. But that thought was dashed when the hoplite burst from the flames, armour glowing from a shimmering energy field around him and not incinerated in the slightest.

And the Praetorian was now wide open.

The hoplite's boots connected to the Praetorian's chest and that was when the tables turned. Their was a sudden surge of power as the hoplite's boot and greave flashed into life as the hoplite pushed off. The Praetorian roared in pain as a punishing wave of invisible force rocked through it. The resonant force was powerful enough to crack it's armoured carapace at point of impact into a shower of shards and make it's back armour and dorsal spines fracture as the force moved through it in a visible shock wave that billowed back the fallen snow.

The Praetorian was thrown back hard, arcing through the air in a shower of shards before crashing hard into a rock formation, the formation itself exploding into dust from impact. The hoplite executed a fluid back flip before landing on his feet and swiftly drawing his spear again.

There was a few cheers coming from the colonists from this feat but it was short lived.

The Praetorian heaved itself up, it's armoured hide cracked and splintered from the force of the kick and the impact with the rocks. It shook itself, a shower of chitin, snow and gravel falling from it. It then snared in a seemingly frustrated tone. From it's posture, bent down and tail swaying violently in the air, it was evident that it was losing it's patience.

It growled as it turned it's gaze towards the scattered survivors before it made it's move. Rearing back, it fired out balls of flame in volleys at the smaller groups of surivors. The colonist's were forced from their hiding places, running for their lives while carrying their children or wounded as the fireballs detonated on impact near their positions, engulfing the immediate area in green flame. The hoplite realised what the Praetorian was doing. It was herding everyone into one spot.

Evidently this was to draw the hoplite into a trap of some kind.

Some colonists however went the other way and braved the green blazes in a bid to get to the Archangels. The Praetorian however showed no signs of trying to herd them back. It would get to them soon enough after the hoplite was taken care of.

The initiates were still in hiding as the Praetorian seemed only focussed on the humans, watching as the Praetorian herded the humans into one massed bunch. Kra'vyx had not moved from his spot. He had not moved for the entire fight, seemingly transfixed by what the hoplite said in a voice he thought he recognised. The Archangels, with their group of survivors, remained in their hiding place observing the sudden change in tactics.

"This bastard is getting frustrated and desperate." Andrzej said, surveying the scene with his binoculars. "It's trying to lure that guy into defending the colonists."

"Getting him to where it wants so it can kill him." Hick's quickly postulated. "I hope this guy has another trick up his sleeve."

The Praetorian's plan worked however as the hoplite raced to the massed colonists who were now forced up against the snow bank of the eastern valley wall, skidding in front of the terrified populace. The Praetorian now had the hoplite where it wanted him as it jumped opposite them roughly a three hundred feet away in the middle of the inferno ravaged valley. Once this pest was out of the way, it can then focus on the Archangels and the initiates.

So what if it looses a few hosts in the process

The Praetorian glowed again, eldritch light seeping out from within it's body and through it's cracked and fissured carapace as it drew up energy within itself. The hoplite stood his ground in front of the huddled survivors. But this time, he was not raising his weapons.

Andrzej watched on in his binoculars.

"what is this guy doing?" he said, keeping his view centred on the hoplite.

Instead, playing a trump card of his own, from his shoulders two appendages that looked vaguely like yautja plasmacasters unfolded from his back, pivoted up and pointed towards the Praetorian. No sooner did they aim that they began to hum, the decoration glowing with power.

Andrzej eyes widened.

"Are those what I think they are?" he said to Sergei.

"Shoulder cannons." Sergei confirmed before he scoffed. "If our weapons couldn't scratch that fucker I doubt those would."

Hicks wasn't as cynical as he pushed Sergei out of the way so he could get a look to judge himself.

"If that spear and sword can punch through their carapace, I'm thinking these might as well." he predicted.

The Praetorian's aura of invincibility faltered a fraction at the sight of this unexpected feature. Like it recognised what this weapon was. It had to win here and now.

"Look at that." Hicks pointed out, pulling back from the scope. "It recognises them."

The Praetorian, after charging up as much as it could, finally gave out a loud roar, filling the entire valley as it shot out a searing green fiery beam of energy from it's mouth. The hoplite's plasmacasters were now drawing in energy, particles of light streaming into the barrels with increasing speed. The colonists behind him were making their final prayers and bracing themselves for the inevitable, shielding childrens' eye from the conflagration roaring towards them. The Archangels and initiates could only watch on in horrified anticipation as the beam soared it's way towards the doomed colonists and their unexpected protector.

That was when the hoplite showed defiance to death itself.

"Eat THIS!" the hoplite roared.

When the beam reach within ten feet, the hoplite fired. From the plasmacasters were fired massive blinding beams of blue energy, fiery and arcing with lightning. The snow all around them billowed and evaporated as the beams soared forward, those who still watching covered their eyes from the blinding light that the beams produced. The Archangels and the initiates half ducked for cover, Andrzej and Sergei rubbing their almost blinded eyes from looking at the brightness through their gear, but were instinctively drawn to watch this awesome display of power. The beams impacted each other with massive correlating light show of conflicting green and blue.

The hoplite's beams were pushing back the Praetorian's breath like a blue tide of power engulfing green land. The Praetorian realising that the hoplite was forcing it's attack back, spewed more power into it's attack. And the hoplite did the same, the beams glowing more intensely. The two power streams conflicted with each other, crating massive flares of intertwining blue and green that lashed out into the surroundings, melting snow and charring wreckage and corpses.

The Archangels watched this awesome display with a mixture of anticipation and ongoing dread. The initiates were thinking the same.

What if the hoplite failed or if the conflicting energies caused a massive chain reaction?

From the intensity of the energy beams, which was essentially ship based ordinance by any racial comparison, these would clearly atomise anything caught in their path.

That was when the hoplite's armour glowed more intensely then before, arcs of lightning surging around him as an electrifying aura. The beams were now like a supernova in beam form, burning bright with the force of a sun. At this critical moment in humanity's favour, the hoplite's beams proved stronger as they forced back the green flames. The Praetorian futilely spewed more flame in an attempt to divert the tide. But that only delayed the inevitable.

"You will not live past this day!" the hoplite declared. "You will answer for everyone you took!"

The Praetorian gave out a loud roar as the beams finally broke through its own and engulfed it. Carried by the blue energised tide and being slowly burned into dust in the process, the Praetorian was brutally smashed into the cliff face, being driven into the rock by the sheer force of the beams. The icy rock around the Praetorian fractured and started to break apart, large boulders crashing down from high above, atomising when they fell into the beams.

"THIS ENDS NOW!" the hoplite roared.

The beams with a loud surge of energy, expanded exponentially both in size and power. The force of which was causing a fierce blizzard to erupt in the valley and creating seismic activity to shake the valley for several moments before the cliff face in turn, with the Praetorian giving off one final roar of defiance, was blown away by the sheer power of the beams. The sound of atomising ice and rock could be heard as the beams continued to punch their way through. Massive clouds of atomising rocks and steam from flash-heated snow erupted in a massive trail that reached high into the sky.

The hoplite stopped firing, the beams of power fading into the air as the plasmacasters retracted back down, trailing a glowing stream of ionised air through the air as they locked into the hoplite's backplate. In the distance, following the hazy trajectory of the energy beams, the snow had all been melted away, exposing bare glowing and melted rock and icy edging in the snow banks. In the distance, the valley wall had been completely devastated. A new valley had taken form, thirty hundred feet across and the wall worn so smooth as if it was glass. And, from the way the walls glittered as they cooled in the cold air, they had indeed become something akin to glass. The valley stretched as if for many many miles, such was the awesome power of the weapons of this unexpected saviour.

But, a more pressing matter then geological creation was the fate of the last of this hive.

The Praetorian, for whom had taken the full brunt of the attack, was nowhere to be seen. Atomised or thrown far into the depths of this planet, no one knew.

And the survivors were thankful for it.

The hoplite dug his spear into the snow in victory. He then looked to the group of colonists, pointing a thumb towards the steaming valley he had made.

"I think I got it." The hoplite said, pulling up his spear and walking off, the hawk landing on his shoulder. "Scratch that, I DID get the bastard." the hoplite corrected, gesturing to the devastation he had caused.

And with that, the battle was finally over. But the damage had been done. The convoy was wrecked, many of the colony was dead, predominately the always chewed up colonial marines, and those left were stranded in the bleak Arctic environment.

But that was the price for the destruction of xenomorphs from an age long past.

Mal'fax and his friends had survived the ordeal and were trying to put together what had happened. No sooner were they destined to be hosts for the God-Prey they were then saved by a warrior who would be, for all intents and purposes, like a god. Ly'enta was certain that her prayers had been answered.

"Ly'enta?" Mal'fax called, not taking his eyes off the field.

"Yes?" Ly'enta replied.

Mal'fax turned to her and he was surprised when he saw here with her mask still on. However, the lenses of her mask was blackened and cracked. The optical system of her masked had been fried.

"Tell me you recorded that on your mask!" he said in anticipation, hoping that her mask wasn't broken

Ly'enta typed on her wrist-pad to find out. After a pause, she nodded after her mask showed her what it had managed to film. It did catch most of the fight in the convoy and the intervention of the hoplite. And it cut out when the beams from the hoplite and the praetorian impacted one another.

"I got most of it." she said, slipping her mask off and shaking her head. "But the light of those beams had fried my optic sensors."

Mal'fax nodded at that confirmation, relieved that they did have some information to pass on and slumped down. He and Fel'tak had almost been blinded by the bright flashes, taking more then a few blinks to restore sight.

"This is going to take more then an oral description to explain." Mal'fax said, wiping his head and looking to Fel'tak.

Fel'tak was slumped down, head in his hands in defeat.

"What are you moping about now?" Mal'fax asked, shaking him on the shoulder. "We survived."

"How can we go back home without a trophy?" Fel'tak lamented. "Ours got blown up and that guy killed all the Prey!"

"After everything we've been through, I'll be happy if we even get back home." Mal'fax declared.

Fel'tak looked to him like he was insane before ranting how nothing had been going right for him.

The Archangels too were completely and utterly blown away from what they had witnessed. Some of them rubbed their eyes hard to make sure they weren't hallucinating from the cold or from head inuries. But even from this distance from the fight, they felt the heat coming from the beams.

"Good. Fucking. God." Hicks managed to say.

"I don't think God had anything to do with this." Sergei pointed out., looking at his blackened scope.

The lenses were charred and cracked from all the light that had been focusing through it. Merely tapping on it caused the fragile lenses to crumble.

"That's a hell of a weapon." Sergei added, dumping his rifle in the snow. "I take it back."

"It like that guy was shooting a plasma engine's exhaust from his shoulders!" Karl compared. "I saw a guy falling into one once and he was vaporised before he could even scream."

Sarah was checking her eyes with her flash light to see if she had gone blind from the light show.

"No, I'm not blind." she said, putting her light away "All that just happened."

Andrzej looked through his, miraculously intact, binoculars, rubbing the lenses clean of snow from when he ducked for cover and he saw that the hoplite was walking in the direction of Kra'vyx. Looking up, he caught sight of the silver hawk swooping down to the hoplite. And, much to his suspicions, at the axes on the hoplite's hips. And when the hoplite's cloak billowed form the wind, he caught sight of a very familiar great axe on his back

"Who is this guy?" he questioned, lowering the binoculars. 'Where did he come from? And where did he get those axes?"

The initiates were wondering the exact same thing. More so because the way the hoplite fought the xenomorphs was very familiar to them.

Kra'vyx, who had not moved from his spot for the entire battle, watched as the hoplite approached him. As the hoplite drew closer, the hawk stretched it's wings and light shimmered in it's plumage. Kra'vyx was now nervously trying to shuffle away as the hoplite walked closer to him, the silver hawk perching on his shoulder, but he was futilely pushing against the wreck behind him. Having seen the hoplite make mincemeat out of the xenomoprhs, Kra'vyx wasn't taking any chances The hoplite retracted his spear, the weapon shrinking in size before holstering it on his hip. He then held a hand out in a reassuring manner.

"Stay away from me!" Kra'vyx demanded, reaching for a katara.

"Kra'vyx, put the weapon down." the hoplite said, surprisingly in yautjan, gently but firmly.

There it was again. The voice that sounded very familiar but this time in his native tongue.

"What... What are you?" Kra'vyx questioned, keeping his blade up. "How do you know my name?"

"Kra'vyx, it's alright." the hoplite said assuringly, kneeling down to the initiate. "It's me."

Kra'vyx listened to the voice again and sure enough something in his head clicked. The accent and tone sounded exactly like someone he saw fall to his death. And the weeping flames decoration on the helmet's cheek-plates resembled war paint of a very specific individual.

One whom he had seen wear it on many occasions.

"Alaric?" Kra'vyx hesistantly asked asked.

The hoplite reached for his neck and placed a finger on a certain spot. A quiet hiss of escaping air whooshed from the helmet. The hoplite lifted the helmet up and off his head, black ornamented hair hair draping down like a chime. And when the helmet was past the nose, the face of which was bearing faint blue stains, Kra'vyx was met with ruby red eyes.

Kra'vyx's eyes widened and his jaw and mandibles dropped to the proverbial floor. His katara fell out of his grip and clatter on his leg. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, despite wishing for it so hard.

"Kra'vyx?" Alaric asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost?"

Kra'vyx blinked and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. When he did, Alaric was still kneeling there in that armour with the shimmering hawk on his shoulder.

"Alaric?" Kra'vyx asked. "Is that..?"

Alaric reaching to his neck and pulled up his dog tags and locket. Something that no one else would have been able to take from him.

"Real enough for you?" Alaric asked, holding his tags up.

That was all the confirmation needed as Kra'vyx's eyes lit up with a renewed flame.

"Alaric!" Kra'vyx yelled in joy.

He immediately lunged forward, catching Alaric in a bear hug causing him to drop his helmet. Alaric returned the hug as the hawk hopped off his shoulder and landed on the snow next to them to avoid getting crushed.

"I knew you weren't dead!" Kra'vyx yelled in heartfelt relief. "I knew it!"

"I made a promise to Ja'anya, remember." Alaric reminded. "And I'm not breaking it now."

To the Archangels watching, it was like they were seeing a ghost. For the second time in one mission. Andrzej lifted his binoculars up for a better look and his jaw dropped from what he saw.

"Is that..." he started.

Sergei, who suddenly snatched the binoculars from his captain's grasp and nearly garrotted him with the strap, beaten him to it as he looked through.

"_Fignya_!" Sergei said, vaulting himself up and over the wrecked truck. "It can't be!"

"Sergei, wait!" Hicks yelled, chasing after him.

The Archangels were quick to rush after the sniper to see for themselves, leaving the colonists to wonder what was going on. And when the spec ops marines did, they just couldn't believe what they saw. Alaric was there in the flesh, more accurately in an armour suit that annihilated the xenomorphs.

"Are you serious!" Sarah said. "You're not dead!"

Sergei looked like his head was going to explode from this revelation.

"It can't be!" Sergei exclaimed, pointing to himself and Mac. "I saw you fall! WE saw you fall!"

Mac just gave some choice words in Japanese at this revelation, having seen Alaric plummet to his supposed death. Maybe his prayers to the Shinto spirits came through after all.

"When have I ever been easy to kill?" Alaric joked in English as he tried to get Kra'vyx off of him.

The young yautja however didn't intend to let go yet.

"I'm sorry everyone but I think I'm going to faint." Karl said, collapsing onto his rear and holding his head. "Come to think of it, did those bugs bash me on the head back there?"

Hicks was more calm about this. After seeing so much mindblowing and throwing-pyshics-out-the-window moments from this battle, he decided to take this one thing a little easier. It would save him from a headache or two.

"Normally, I hate Dues Ex Machina's but today I'm making an exception." Hicks said, sheathing his falchion as everyone did the same.

Andrzej was silent as he took in what was revealed. Alaric, who Sergei and Mac reported had fallen to his death down an abyssal chasm while fighting a psychotic yautja, was here in the flesh. Albeit in a highly advanced suit of armour and weapons that made their swords look like cutlery by comparison.

"I'm not going to ask what you've been up to." he decided, holding his hand out. "Welcome back, Reaper."

Alaric took hold and pulled himself and Kra'vyx up. He was immediately greeted by his squad with the customary shoulder shakes and the like.

The initiates, having just realised what was going on, rushed up. And they were just as surprised as the Archangels, considering they all saw Alaric fall to his supposed death. Fel'tak, being the sceptic, was the most surprised. Considering after seen Alaric fall into the abyss, followed by gargantuan blocks of ice. If anything, he thought Alaric was pulverised at the bottom of the chasm.

"I don't believe it!" Fel'tak exclaimed. "You're not dead!"

Kra'vyx walked up to Fel'tak, pointing a finger right in his face and a victorious smile on his face.

'I told you he wasn't dead!" Kra'vyx declared. "I told you but you wouldn't believe me!"

"Okay, okay!" Fel'tak relented, pushing Kra'vyx back. "Don't poke me in the face!"

Mal'fax was more reserved in his astonishment, asking a blatantly obvious question right away.

"Alaric, how could you survive a fall like that?" Mal'fax asked. "It's not possible, even for a yautja!"

Alaric shrugged off the accusation.

"Oh that, I was using that bastard as a landing pad." Alaric joked, keeping the truth hidden.

Ly'enta was more direct in her praise. She rushed up and caught Alaric in a bear hold of her own. Alaric's face was soon smothered by her chest as she held onto him tightly.

" I knew the gods haven't abandoned you." Ly'enta praised. "I prayed for you every moment you were gone."

This was a somewhat awkward situation for Alaric. Considering how she was taller then he was and his head came up to her chest in a rather specific location.

"Thanks." Alaric mumbled in yautjan, amusingly muffled her cleavage. "Mind letting go please?"

Ly'enta, realising what she was doing, sheepishly let him go with a blush. The Archangels were somewhat bemused by this show of emotion. Though it didn't take them long to determine the embarrassment factor from the way Ly'enta react to Alaric's plea.

'That's a first." Hicks snickered, patting his helmet. "And, if our cameras weren't damaged, we caught that on tape."

Alaric picked up his helmet, shook the snow from it and held it in the crook of his shield arm. He looked around at all the wrecked vehicles, the xenomorphs he butchered and the half buried bodies of slain marines and colonists who gave their lives to defend the convoy. The surviving colonists were even now coming out of their hiding places and congregating around him. Alaric saw their faces, scared but thankful to be alive. The few surviving marines hobbled up, carrying the loader pilots between them.

"It's fortunate I got here when I did." Alaric commented, looking at the devastation around them. "If I'd been a few seconds late, Kra'vyx would've been bug bait."

"I think we all would've been birthing the next generation of bugs." Hicks corrected.

Alaric paused at that assumption. He knew first hand the truth of how these xenomorphs reproduced. Not by birthing from a host but by complete assimilation from human to xenomorph. He still had the images of that miner and that fully transformed bug in his head. And he wasn't sure if everyone was ready for such a truth.

"Alaric?" Andrzej asked, seeing how Alaric was suspiciously silent from what hicks said..

Alaric snapped out of his thoughts.

"Yeah I'm fine. I just... remembered something that's all." Alaric answered.

He looked to where he entered the valley, where he had slain the xenomorph going after Kra'vyx. He knew that there was a tunnel system that led most of the way here and camo out around the valley.

"I almost lost track of the bugs on their way here." he admitted. "Bastards move faster then I thought."

He then held out a hand to the hawk at his feet. The hawk jumped onto his hand and then up to his shoulder.

"It's a good thing Aegis here never lost track of them." Alaric praised, giving Aegis a scratch behind the head.

Aegis gave a soft trill of delight as Alaric scratched away. It was apparent that Aegis had not got a good scratch for a long time. Thousands of years to be exact.

"Aegis?" Andrzej said, toying with the word. "This bird has a name?"

"He's my shieldhawk." Alaric revealed. "He keeps an eye out for me. We knew that the bugs were going to attack so we followed them, knowing that they would lead me back to you guys."

Foreman Hernandez, who had miraculously survived the attack and was busy peeling off webbing from his overalls, walked up to Alaric and looked more closely at Aegis. Aegis looked at the foreman, cocking his head while Hernandez looked to Alaric.

"There's no native life on this planet." Hernandez pointed out. "Surveys showed nothing. Just a lifeless ball of ice."

"I didn't think there would be any form of life, let alone a bird." a colonist spoke up. "Doens't even looks like it's adapted to the cold."

"I didn't say he was native." Alaric clarified. "Still, doesn't look like the cold disagrees with him."

"If so, then how and why is this hawk here?" Hicks added. "Those hunters didn't bring any beasts with them."

Aegis turned to glare at Hicks at the mention of him, a proud avian, of being described as a mere beast. His eyes flashed white and his shield crest shimmered with arcing energy. Hicks backed off a step from this sign of aggression. Considering what they saw Aegis do to one of those xenomorphs, it was prudent not to get on the wrong side of the hawk.

"Oh dear." Mac said, grinning as Aegis hopped onto Hick's shoulder and glared right in the marine's face. "I think you insulted him."

"Whoa, easy!" Hicks apologised as Aegis shifted on his shoulder as if ready to peck his eye out. "I didn't mean you specifically. It was a broad term."

Aegis nodded in a manner saying 'that's better' before jumping of Hick's shoulder and back onto Alaric's before getting comfortable once more.

"Looks like the bird is the word." Karl joked, getting back on his feet.

"Great, I've been put in my place by a bird." Hicks said in joking defeat.

The squad chuckled at that. But then Andrzej got back to how serious Alaric's reappearance was. For one thing, the circumstance behind it and from what Sergei and Mac told him about Alaric's... change at the refinery. And now that Alaric was here, and there was no immediate danger, he wanted to get some information out of Alaric.

"I hate to break up the reunion so early but there is a serious matter to attend to. Aside from more bugs showing up and freezing out here, obviously." Andrzej stated before turning to Alaric. "Alaric, in your own time and as brief as possible, what happened back there when you got separated? And where did you get this... armour and weapons?"

Alaric shifted on his feet at his captain's question. Evidently, this was going to take some in-depth explanation and Alaric wasn't sure if he could them the truth.

The whole truth.

Alaric was still coming to terms with it himself.

"I know you lot have a crap-ton of questions on what happened to me." Alaric said to everyone. "Trust me when I say it is a long and overly complicated story."


	28. Chapter 27

Hello, my minions

After much lengthy writing, and crashing into writer blocks on the way, the next chapter is available for your viewing pleasure, though i still think it could do with some improvements later on. in this chapter, the truth of the xenomorphs is revealed and it is not something that can be readily believed as Alaric performs some thing akin to a miracle. To Snyperwulff, thank you for the lengthy review and rest assured, Alaric will be losing several times in this story, in more ways then one. that'll be coming in the next story arc.

On a side note, to those who message me about updates and have never written a story on this site (not naming anyone in particular), you try writing something like this THEN ask me for updates. It's allot harder then it looks because there are many things you have to take in consideration. and most of the reviews in the in the review box are things like 'Update plz' or 'How long till next chapter?'. To me, even though it's good to see people are enjoying the story, that's not what i call a review. I need something more substantial with maybe some pointers or any constructive criticisms you think might improve my skills.

lastly, I'm not intending to be offensive from what i just said, I'm just illustrating that stories takes time both in planning and writing.

Anyway, read away and leave a review, !REVIEW!, in the box.

* * *

><p>Chapter 27- Horrific truth.<p>

Alaric was interrupted at that point, rather fortuitously, by a stubborn problem.

A scream from one of the colonists was heard, and everyone saw the reason why as they turned back to the ruined convoy. In the distance, far ahead of them, one of the xenomorphs was displaying that annoying tendency of not being dead. It was the xenomorph that had it's neck sliced open by Alaric's kopis. From where they were standing, everyone saw the ragged and gaping wound knit itself together, arteries and veins lashing out and melding together as flesh grew in sheets and hardened into carapace. And it didn't take much to know that it would come straight for them when it's head got back on.

"Fuck, not again!" Karl cursed, drawing his sword.

The Archangels reached for their swords but Alaric held a hand up.

"I got it." Alaric calmly said, reaching for the gauss rifle on his back.

He casually paced up in front of the group, hefting the rifle in his hands. Upon closer inspection, the Archangels saw that this rifle had a vaguely familiar layout to a pulse rifle and had an attached axe-like bayonet. And that led to a foregone conclusion for the entire group.

"Alaric, firearms are pointless!" Hicks stated. "They'll just bounce off it's shell!"

Alaric wasn't deterred by this defeatism. Especially how the xenomorph had now spotted them and was even now storming towards them.

"When did I say it was conventional?" he clarified.

He flicked the safety catch and the weapon hummed into life, indentations and readouts glowing as he aimed it at the charging xenomorph. Alaric squeezed the trigger and the rifle fired blisteringly fast with bright blue electrostatic muzzle flashes. The rounds, firing so fast that it made the ocular illusion of being a continuous beam, punched into the xenomorph with resonating impacts, throwing it's mass around as it continued to charge. Everyone could make out the impacts flashes as the rounds penetrated it's armour, though the holes were smaller then what would be expected for a round to inflict that kind of force.

Those watching were completely taken aback when these rounds actually had an effect on the xenomorph. Especially how when one projectile hit it's arm at the elbow between armour plates, the whole lower arm was blown clean off.

Alaric stopped firing after he had fired off a hundred rounds, as indicated by the runic readout and the barrel was faintly glowing. The xenomorph, completely, utterly and literally blown away, staggered on the last few paces, stopping just in front of the assembled group. It then stood for a moment, swaying unevenly, before it fell forwards, stone dead. Everyone hastily moved out of the way as the towering xenomoprh came crashing down. Alaric simply stepped to the side as the xenomorph crashed into the snow. And it was there that everyone saw the damage Alaric had inflicted. While they saw a multitude of small entry holes on the front, on the back the exit wounds were massive. It effectively had nearly it's entire back blown away, leaving only a smoking ragged mess in it's place. It's tail, dorsal spines and everything in between was gone, leaving just a scene that one would see in an autopsy of an industrial accident.

"Holy shit!" came the response from a flabbergasted Hicks.

Alaric lowered the rifle with a content smirk.

Suffice to say, the gauss rifle was more powerful then it looked.

"I thought that fucker was dead." a marine exclaimed. "You damn near cut it's head off!"

"Dead now, ain't it?" Alaric said, walking up to the mangled corpse.

He then pulled the xenomorph's head forward, or what was left of it, to expose it's neck and with that he hefted the gauss rifle and brought the axe bayonet into it's neck, hacking away until he cut right through this time. He then hefted the head with one hand and tossed it away. And like everything else Alaric carried, acid did not melt the bayonet.

"Make that double dead." Alaric said, hefting the rifle on his shoulder and walking back to the others.

One Archangel couldn't keep his excitement in from seeing this display of firepower.

"Now that's a hell of a gun!" Sergei praised, rushing up to look more closely at it. "It like you've got a 50. cal HMG in assault rifle form!"

As a point of fact, the 50. cal heavy machine gun, in it's most updated form, was still in use in this century for it's reliability, low cost and heavy firepower. Not bad for a weapon designed in the early twentieth century.

Alaric looked at the rifle on his shoulder with a knowing look before he made a decision.

"Here, you'll make better use of it then me." he said, handing it over.

Sergei eagerly took the rifle, surprised by how solid the craftsmanship was and wasted no time going over it. He checked the sights, the stock and the barrels in awe at how well made it was. Aside from looked like the usual aging, there was no defects that he could recognised. He swiftly found the magazine release catch and extracted the large magazine. He was baffled when he saw the ammunition, just 7.62mm sized bullets with intricate geometrical lines with no casings or propellent.

His face said it all.

"That's a surprise." Hicks said, coming up for a closer look. "No propellant whatsoever."

Sergei looked to Alaric as if he had been cheated.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" Sergei asked credulously, looking up to Alaric.

Alaric didn't have time to answer as the snow ahead of them erupted and more xenomorphs, thought to be dead, regenerated. Those that were fried by lightning peeled off their blackened carapace, revealing fresh shining chitin beneath. Others reformed their broken forms, snapping limbs back in line and cracked carapace filling out. Those which were too damaged, such as being blown to bits, disintegrated or decapitated, didn't regenerate.

"Looks like the fuckers want a second round." Alaric said, hefting his helmet up.

Alaric swiftly donned his helmet, the lenses flashing into life as the colonists reacted to this second ambush in the usual mixture of terror and retreat. He turned to Sergei.

"Just like a pulse rifle!" He quickly said, charging forward. "Get the civvies clear!"

Alaric charged right at the xenomorphs, hoping to cut them down while they were vulnerable. To ensure that they remained dead, he would have to relieve them of their heads. He drew the kopis, the blade singing in the air as he reached jumping distance.

Aegis jumped from his shoulder to hang back with the rest as the Archangels stepped forward with swords drawn, ushering them to a safe location. The hawk hovered over head keeping an eye out for any surprise attack.

Jumping forth, kicking up snow as he did, Alaric flew through the air and was able to slash right through the xenomorph's neck, severing it's head from it's shoulder. The headless cadaver tumbled to the ground after it's head, gush acid behind it as Alaric landed on his feet. And the xenomorphs were on top of him.

And owing to their rapid and ungodly adaptation to hazards, their carapace had gotten tougher to compensate for Alaric's weaponry. But that would not deter Alaric in the slightest from tearing them limb from limb.

Sergei, turning his attention back on the rifle, slammed the magazine back in place and then cocked the handle. The rifle clicked and hummed as Sergei held it to his shoulder and aimed down the iron sights. He adjusted them, being more used to using a scope, before digging the stock into his shoulder.

Andrzej noticed Sergei mulling over the weapon, somewhat hesitant to fire. Considering what they saw it do to that xenomorph, Sergei was sure the recoil was going to be hard to control. He didn't have a suit of power armour, to put it simply, to counter it.

"You know how to use that?" Andrzej asked.

Sergei looked to the captain.

"He said it's like a pulse rifle." Sergei said apprehensively, before aiming down the sights. "Here goes."

Sergei squeezed the trigger for a burst, preparing himself for the recoil that he was sure was going to buck like a mule. He was surprised when he felt hardly any recoil as the rifle gave out a burst of sharp electrostatic cracks. His aim was true as the rounds rocketed out and nailed a xenomorph, who was about to pounce on Alaric from behind, right in the head. The xenomorphs head exploded like a ripe melon from the side as the bullets passed through and out.

Sergei's eyes were wide when he saw what he just did. And the squad were just as surprised as the sniper looked down at the weapon.

Alaric swiftly turned to see the xenomorph collapse into the snow, dead once again as it's ruptured head spilled cranial matter. He then turned to a stunned Sergei.

"See?" he called out, blocking a xenomorph's tail with his shield in a shower of blue sparks. "Just like a pulse rifle!"

Alaric countered the xenomorph by slicing it's tail off before driving his shield into it's leg, smashing it's knee in. He then smashed it in the head with his shield before hacking through it's neck to finish it off.

Sergei realised at that point, having felt it fire and how it operated, what kind of weapon the rifle was.

"It's a railgun!" he realised. "A miniaturised railgun!"

However, to ruin the mood, firing that shot had alerted several of the xenomorphs to this new and sudden threat. They broke off from engaging Alaric and pounded right towards the squad, intent on eliminating this new-found resistance.

"Here they come!" Andrzej yelled, as he drew his sword. "Get tactical, marines!"

The squad lined up with swords drawn as Sergei quickly aimed down the sights, ready to drop them before they got close. The other marines went about trying to get the colonists out of harms way but staying together.

Alaric decapitated his current opponant before he noticed that the xenomoprhs were not engaging him anymore. He realised that, oppurtunistic as they are, they were going for the virtually unarmed colonists.

"Oh for fucks sake!" Alaric yelled in frustration, chasing after the xenomoprhs. "Stay fucking dead!"

Sergei was quick with the rifle, concentrating his fire on the closest xenomorphs. He was successful in rendering most of their heads into paste but there were two xenomorphs that moved faster then Sergei could aim. His sniper habit of not wasting ammunition on misses was working against him.

"I can't get a shot!" Sergei yelled, as the xenomorphs pounced at the group.

"Evade!" Andzrej yelled.

Everyone was quick to respond but the xenomorphs proved quicker. While most of the group managed to get clear, one of the Archangels weren't so lucky.

Sergei, in retribution of killing it's brood kin, was smacked hard in the gut by the first xenomorph's tail, the gauss rifle flying from his grip and away out of anyone's immediate reach, his armour crumpling with a loud metallic crunch. He was sent careening into the snow, cradling his chest and gasping for breath. The rest of the Archangels pulled back to allow Alaric came charging up to deal with it. Sarah rushed to Sergei and dragged him back to the colonists and other marines out of harms way, the sniper coughing hard and he tried to get air back in his lungs. His armour, thanks to it's composite structure, had taken the full brunt of the blow. But still, it was badly caved in, requiring forceful pulling on it's latches to get it free and allow him to breath.

The rest of the Archangels rushed in to fill the gap.

Alaric lined himself up for a jump as the xenomorph's back was turned. But he was soon deterred from saving his squad.

Alaric abruptly skidded to a halt as another xenomorph erupted out of the snow in a pounce right at him. Alaric ducked, bracing his shield up as the xenomorph landed right on top of him. Pushing up, he rebounded the xenomorph up and over him as the shield's energy field flashed from the impact. The xenomorph landed deftly on it's feet before turning to Alaric who brought his kopis to bear.

The rest of the Archangels fenced and parried their attacking xenomorph's attacks, dodging those that knew they couldn't parry. Mal'fax and Fel'tak rushed in to engage the second xenomorph. Fel'tak was eager to get a new trophy while Mal'fax was intent on killing it before it did any damage. Ly'enta was with Kra'vyx, hauling him to safety much to his defiance.

Kra'vyx was placed up against a wrecked truck out of the fighting.

"Kra'vyx, stay here."Ly'enta urged.

"I can fight!" Kra'vyx protested.

"You're not in any shape to be fighting." Ly'enta told him, keeping Kra'vyx down. "Besides, Alaric wouldn't want you in there."

Before Kra'vyx could protest further, Ly'enta rushed to join Mal'fax and Fel'tak. Kra'vyx slumped his shoulders at the thought of being useless when he could be helping them. He still had to earn a trophy before all this was over.

Kra'vyx sighed despondently before he noticed something buried in the snow.

Ly'enta in the meantime kept her distance as she watched Mal'fax and Fel'tak engage the xenomorph, keeping it occupied. This was not out of reluctance to attack but rather biding her time for the right moment to attack. She was looking for a weak spot to exploit so that they can go in for the kill.

When the xenomorph reared it's head up ready to pounce, Ly'enta struck at that crucial moment.

A sharp crack was heard as Ly'enta, seeing the opening, lashed out with both whips. The chains wrapped around its neck, the barbed chains digging into gaps in its carapace. The xenomorph reacted to this sudden incapacitation by yanking on the chains. Ly'enta was nearly pulled off her feet but, skidding along like she was wake boarding, she found purchase on a rock. She dug her feet in and heaved.

Mal'fax and Fel'tak rushed in to take advantage of the situation, jabbing and pummelling away trying to get past it's armour. Fel'tak had some luck in jabbing between carapace plates and Mal'fax's barrage of blows was starting to crack them opening The xenomorph however, seeing this as an annoyance rather then a threat, swatted them hard with a fierce back slap, scattering the two young hunters. It then turned it's head towards Ly'enta, it's tail rising up ready to spear her.

Ly'enta, with resolve burning in her eyes, tugged on her whips as hard as she could in unison, the bladed chains grinding into the xenomorph's neck like a chainsaw cutting into a tree, chitin shards flying in a shower of sparks. And then the blades found a way between the armour plating and into the sinuous flesh within with a loud screech of metal into flesh. The xenomoprh gave out a loud gargled screech as the blades sawed right into it's jugulars.

With a sharp screech of metal, Ly'enta fell to the ground hard as the chains came free abruptly. The xenomorph staggered a few steps, acid gushing from it's deeply ruptured neck before it lost it's footing and crashed into the snow. It hit it's head on a conveniently placed rock and it's head snapped off it's shredded spine with a loud crack.

Ly'enta took in what she had just accomplished. She had just earned her trophy and her right to become a huntress. But when she looked at her whips, she saw that there was a price to be had. Her chain-whips' blades were fractured, cracked and above else blunted from grinding into the hardened carapace.

"Well done!" Mal'fax praised, snapping Ly'enta out of her thoughts.

Fel'tak however was occupied with getting another trophy then giving praise.

"Next one's mine!" Fel'tak declared, rushing to the second xenomorph.

"Fel'tak, wait!" Mal'fax yelled rushing after him.

The Archangels in the meantime had manage to keep their xenomorph contained using hit and run manoeuvres, preventing from getting to the colonists and other surviving marines. If they could keep the xenomorph busy until Alaric or the initiates could engaged it, they could get the colonists to safety. Or as safe as could be on this planet.

However, that plan was about to go awry.

The xenomorph at that point noticed some sheep who left the safety of the flock. A female colonist, holding her young son in her arms, rushing toward one of the wrecked transports. While this may seem like a sound strategy, it was not one that was suitable for this situation.

And Andrzej knew it when he turned his back for a moment and what he saw was an open target.

"Get back here!" Andrzej shouted to her.

The xenomorph's opportunism revealed itself.

With a mighty lash from it's tail, it battered the Archangels away like bowling pins, the marines groggily rolling to their feet. Fel'tak rushed in for the kill, seeing an opening in the xenomorph's attack. But the xenomorph was just waiting for him. Fel'tak, jumping for the xenomorph's throat, found his stave glancing harmlessly off it's armoured crest. It then bucked it's head up, catapulting Fel'tak high in the air. Fel'tak yelled in a mixture of surprise and cheated rage as he tumbled back down. The xemomorph then swung it's tail once more and smacked Fel'tak away like a major league batter scoring a home run. Fel'tak yelled in pain as the tail impacted his back, flying several metres before skidding into the snow in a pain wracked heap.

Fortunately, his yautja physiology ensured his back wasn't pulverised by the impact of the xenomorph's tail. Only badly bruised and it would take time before he had any feeling in his legs.

The xenomorph was clear to charge the colonist who had now got her son inside the wrecked transport. It stampeded towards her, arms out and ready to grab the both of them. She screamed in terror as the xenomorph got within leaping distance.

At that moment, something tackled the xenomorph from behind in a cloud of snow, causing to stagger towards the colonist and her son. The xenomorph skidded to it's knees and the mother grabbed her child out of the way and dived to the side. The xenomorph crashed into the transport, tipping it onto it's side with a loud crashing clatter.

Everyone thought that Alaric had finally managed to intercept. Only the problem with that is that Alaric was just now ripping his xenomorph's head off and had now looked to see what was going on.

The saviour in question was completely unexpected as the xenomorph got to it's feet and was revealed to be hanging on it's back.

It was a malformed xenomorph that looked human in shape. It was draped in the tattered remnants of miner smocks and the only parts of it that were xenomorph was it's legs, it's right arm ended in a set of talons, a tail waved from it's coccyx and the top half of it's head from the eyes up was smooth carapace like a mask that then pointed in malformed stubs like devil horns. The rest of the body was human, gaunt flesh that was exposed to view was covered in greying hardened blotches and the human mouth was starting to take on the xenomorph's characteristic toothy grin.

It looked like it was in considerable pain from the way it moved. As if its body was resisting it's thoughts.

Alaric, remembering what he had saw in the hive, quickly recognised it as the occupant that had been prematurely birthed and ran towards it. And it surprised everyone when it did something that no xenomorph could.

"Run!" it rasped in a surprisingly protective and human male voice. "Get away!"

Alaric's eyes widened as he skidded to a halt, as indicated by his helmet's lenses, by this sudden speech.

The xenomorph roared as it smacked the mutant off it's back. The mutant however defiantly held on, driving his tail into it's side like an anchor. The xenomorph screeched in annoyance as it tried to grab the mutant. The mutant proved to be a determined clinger like an overly persistent fly. The colonist took her chance hauling her son up in her arms and ran for cover far from here.

The xenomorph lashed out an arm to try and catch her but the mutant wrenched at it's neck as he lurched out of the way.

"You won't take them!" the mutant rasped, clawing at it's back defiantly. "You won't take them!"

The xenomorph screeched in annoyance, continuing to grab after the mutant who was even now using his clawed hand to hack, somewhat ineffectively, at it's back. The xenomoprh then bucked to and fro to shake him off, making the mutated colonist hold on even tighter and claw further in determination.

However, the xenomorph had the idea of using the transport wreck as a deterrent.

The xenomorph charged into the wreckage, spinning in mid jump so that it's back would impact and dislodge the mutated colonist. The transport exploded with a loud metallic screech into a shower of sparks and twisted shrapnel as the xenomorph smashed right through. It may have been subjected to multiple lacerations on it's back in the process but it had attained it's objective.

The mutant's grip faltered for a second upon impact and that was all it took.

The xenomorph reached behind and grabbed the mutant by the newly dislodged tail. Before the mutant could respond, he was brutally wrenched off the xenomorph's bleeding back before being slammed into the ground hard. The xenomorph brutally and sadistically, like a silver-back ape dispatching a rival male, slammed the mutant again and again, loud cracks filling the air.

This was entirely not what a xenomorph, known for swift merciless killing, would normally do.

The xenomorph pinned the mutant into the ground under one foot before it leant down and bit down hard at the base of the mutant's tail. The mutant yelled in distorted pain as razor sharp teeth punctured carapace. With a loud snapping crunch, the xenomorph bit the mutant's tail off in a ragged arc of blackish blood, tossing the twitching appendage like offal into a street.

And then the xenomorph tossed the pulverised mutant up in the air and it's tail shot out.

The xenomorphs tail punched right through the mutant's back with a loud crunch before bursting out of it's chest, blackish blood erupted out from the wound that hissed as it hit the snow. The mutant gave out a loud echoing distorted scream as he was held in the air. He was then slammed hard into the ground with a very audible crack before being slung off into the snow. The mutant landed into a broken heap, skidding through the snow and impacting the rock face first where the colonist and her son was hiding.

The colonist was quick to vacate her hiding place when the mutant crashed with a loud crunch of half-formed chitin. The Archangels rushed in with their swords up as Alaric rushed in with his shield up, ready to engage.

The xenomorph roared loudly at them in a show of strength before a loud electrostatic crack was heard. The xenomorph was hit hard in the upper chest by what looked like a fiery rocket travelling at unprecedented speed. The projectile punched deep into it's chest, causing it to buckle before it exploded in a fiery conflagration of flying chitin, flying appendages, scattering snow and spraying acid in a massive arc. All that was left was it's legs and tail, twitching in the blasted snow.

The Archangels dove in to the snow when the xenomorph exploded out of reflex while Alaric braced behind his shield.

That was a surprise to those watching. It was like the xenomorph suddenly vanished, in a manner of speaking, in a puff of smoke. And then the blasted remains rained down around them like a fleshy monsoon. Alaric held his shield up like an umbrella, chunks of blackened carapace thumping on the metal, while the Archangels smartly stepped aside to avoid being hit by charred acidic remnants.

When the rain of limbs and offal ceased, there was a puzzle to solve.

"Who fired that shot?" Andrzej asked, slowly sheathing his sword.

The Archangels sheathed their swords as they pondered the exact same thing.

"I think the better question is: Did we have a spare SADAR hidden somewhere?" Hicks clarified.

Alaric lowered his shield as he remembered seeing a sight like this before.

"I think I know what did that." Alaric revealed, sheathing his kopis.

Following the direction from which the projectile travelled, Alaric and the Archangels turned to a surprising sight.

Kra'vyx, kneeling in the snow, was holding the gauss rifle in his hands and the grenade launcher's barrel was glowing hot. Kra'vyx was the one who took the xenomorph down by a stroke of good fortune as it turned out he was unknowingly taken to where the gauss rifle was flung from Sergei's grip.

Kray'vyx lowered the rifle as he took in what he had finally managed to accomplish. After being beaten to a pulp, terrified out of his mind and almost torn limb from limb, he had finally fulfilled his right to become a hunter.

"Finally got my trophy!" he declared in overdue but frustrated victory, dumping the rifle to the ground, the rifle's glowing barrel hissing and steaming in the snow, and sat back down hard.

Then on cue, the xenomorph's head landed next to him with a loud thump, smoking from the explosion.

While Mal'fax and Ly'enta were pleased he had finally earned his right as a hunter, one certain initiate was less then supportive.

"Not fair!" Fel'tak complained, holding his back as he numbingly got to his knees.

He was silenced by a smack over the head by Mal'fax, sending him face first back into the snow.

"You had your chance." Mal'fax reminded, pointing a finger at him. "Kra'vyx earned this!"

Fel'tak heaved himself up, spitting snow out of his mouth.

"He didn't use his own weapons!" Fel'tak countered.

"Really? Well, you weren't so eager to go charging back at it with your stave now, were you?" Mal'fax reminded.

"Only due to being nearly made a paraplegic!" Fel'tak stated, pointing to his back.

As Mal'fax and Fel'tak bickered, Ly'enta walked up to Kra'vyx and helped him to his feet.

"We did it." she praised. "We got our trophies!"

Kra'vyx looked at his, still smoking from its demise.

"Wasn't a total failure now, am I?" he said, reaching down to pick up the smoking cranium.

Alaric inwardly smiled at Kra'vyx's achievement. The Archangels took in what had just happened.

"Another surprise." Karl added up. "What's next, lightsabers?"

"A railgun AND a SADAR equivalent." Hicks added up. "What a mix!"

The other angels were just as surprised by the revelation. They all made similar comments about the concept and how they had yet to develop it. Hicks even concluded that this, along with Alaric's armour, had to be technology of a yet undiscovered alien race.

Sarah came up at that point with Sergei supported on her shoulder. He had ditched his imploded cuirass and was left with his thermal jacket with improvised bandages tightly wrapped around his chest to keep his ribs in place.

Andrzej approached them.

"How is he?" Andzrej questioned.

"Cracked ribs." Sarah diagnosed. "Bruising and general disorientation. Luckily, his armour took the brunt of it."

"Is he still combat capable?" Andrzej asked, wanting his sniper to be still useful instead of a liability

"As long as he doesn't overexert himself, he'll be alright." Sarah cautioned.

Segei coughed and winced from it.

"Judging by the explosion, you got the bastard?" Sergei wheezed.

"Got him?" Hicks quipped, pointing to a steaming chunk of carapace by his feet. "It's spread over a hundred feet radius to be exact!"

Sergei chuckled before his chest stopped him with a hiss.

"Careful, you're lucky you didn't implode from that impact." Sarah reminded.

While the squad and the colonists celebrated survival yet again, Alaric however had another thought on his mind other then celebrations

Alaric looked back towards where the mutant landed and he could see something that made his heart ache.

The mutant, despite evidence to the contrary, was dragging himself towards the colonist and her son, leaving a steaming blackish trail behind him. The damage the mutant had sustained was incredible and in many ways heartbreaking. His tail was now a ragged stump of flesh and carapace, his body was covered in cracks seeping out blackish blood, the carapace on his head had a huge fracture that exposed the inner parts and the xenomorph's tail had completely annihilated his spine, forcing him to drag his lifeless legs behind him.

All these injuries and the punishing forces that delivered them could have easily caused death. But by sheer determination or because of the xenomorph corruption within him, the mutant was still alive.

The colonist was keeping her distance from the mutant as he approached, rasping incoherently. Her son in her arms looked just as fearful, but in his eyes he could sense something about this malformed xenomorph.

Something that felt... parental.

In a sudden burst of speed, the mutant reached for her hand, falling at the last hurdle and only managed to yank her glove off. She reacted in fright, hauling her son away. But the mutant persistently followed her, dragging his lifeless legs behind him.

"What going on over there?" Mac said, pointing out to the colonist.

The colonist looked around feverishly for anything to protect herself and her child. She almost tripped over something in the snow and looking down she saw a bolt-gun, likely scattered or dropped during the battle, half buried by her feet. Putting her son down, she quickly dug it out of the snow and hefted it in her hands.

The mutant rasped something indistinctly, like he was trying to speak but his vocal chords were refusing to work.

Alaric was quick to hurry over when his helmet picked up the inhibited speech. The Archangels quickly followed him, the medic having just got the sniper back on his feet, curious to see what was going on. But their reactions, a combination of disgust and logic-defying surprise, betrayed their shock when they arrived.

They all thought that it was a xenomorph that was woefully underdeveloped before bursting.

The mutant continued painfully crawl it's way towards the colonist and her son. She immediately brought up the bolt-gun and did her best to aim the heavy tool at the mutant's head. She cocked it, thankful that there was one bolt left in it's drum magazine. She would have fired the weapon if not for one tiny detail she saw glinting as the mutant reached it's humanoid hand towards her.

A wedding ring.

One that matched hers on her gloveless hand.

The mutant rasped out again and this time she could hear him say something.

Mel.

Her name.

And in a voice, though distorted, that she recognised

And when the mutant shakily raised his head to look up at her, she could definitely see a human's blue right eye with the sclera starting to become jet black, looking up at her through the crack in the smooth carapace covering his eyes.

The colonist's grip loosened on the bolt-gun immediately on seeing this unexpected sight and the tool thumped into the snow.

"Mel." the mutant wheezed. "Help me."

She raised her bolt-gun up again as the mutant said her name. But, either through shock or reluctance or even fear, she could not bring herself to fire.

The mutant then helped her.

The mutant reached out for the bolt-gun with his claw, the broken talons clattering on the metal shrouding. He then raised the barrel and shakily planted it against his head. He then reached his human hand over and clasped hers, using his thumb to make her finger press the trigger.

But before the electrical impulse could shoot the bolt and end his suffering, an ulterior force intervened.

The mutant suddenly convulsed, retching as if all the air in his lung was suddenly forced out. Mel jumped backwards in fright, dropping the bot gun as she fell into the snow. The mutant rolled onto his back, rasping for air. Then there was the unmistakable sound of crunching flesh.

His body was changing. The corruption was taking further hold, exploiting his weakened state with ruthless ambition.

"What the fuck?!" Hicks yelled in surprise.

"Kill me!" the mutant rasped "Please! The voices!"

The carapace on the mutant's body was already starting to heal and spread to the areas of deformed humanity left. Filling in the gaps so to speak as plates of it began to form. The stubs on his head were lengthening out into wickedly curved spikes.

"Holy shit!" someone shouted in shock. "It turning into one of them!"

"Captain, this is bad." Mac warned. "It's maturing."

"Then there's only one thing left." Andzrej said, reaching to his back.

The Archangels raised their swords, ready to cut down the mutant. But Alaric quickly stepped out in front of them, a hand out to stop them.

"Wait!" he said. "Captain, you can't do this."

Andzrej held his sword towards Alaric.

"Alaric." Andrzej warned. "You know what must be done. It has to die now before it's fully gown. Step aside"

That was a bold order, considering what Alaric was capable of.

"Captain... trust me." Alaric firmly pleaded.

Andrzej looked towards the mutant, watching the black carapace slowly spread like a black wave across it's body, before returning h's eyes to Alaric. Andrzej gestured his hand and the Archangels lowered their swords.

"Okay." Andrzej said, sheathing his blade. "You deal with it. Make it quick."

Alaric looked to Aegis on his shoulder. Something had to be done before this mutant lost the last of his humanity.

"Aegis." Alaric asked. "Is there anything to be done to stop this?"

Aegis nodded. The hawk hopped of his shoulder, landing above the mutant's head. Aegis's plumage then started to shimmer as he spread his wings like an array and stood straight and shut his eyes. The mutant continued to painfully convulse as his teeth started to grown into fangs.

"What are you doing?" Alaric asked.

Aegis didn't answer as he seemed to be in deep concentration for what ever was going to happen. Alaric got his answer from the only one who knew Aegis first-hand.

_Aegis is going to try and cleanse him. _Gri'nyr revealed in Alaric's mind._Purge the primarch's corruption from his body while there is still time. But, given his current state, he will need assistance._

Alaric surmised that it must be because of the damage that Aegis had sustained millennia ago, shielding Gri'nyr from the sniper's disruptor shot.

_What do I need to do?_ Alaric asked in his mind.

_Hold your hand over his chest and I'll do the rest. _Gri'nyr explained. _But we must hurry. Be ready to act when the source reveals itself._

Alaric promptly knelt down to the mutant miner and held his gauntleted hand over his chest. Aegis opened his eyes and diamonds glowed with white light and his plumage rippled as if his feathers were of mercury.

_This may kill him_, Gri'nyr's voice warned. _But then death is preferable to enslavement. Still, he was strong enough to resist this far, he may have a chance._

Alaric could then hear Gri'nyr's voice in his head, chanting in the tongue of the Ancients. While Alaric could barely understand what the incantation was, he could feel that it was one of cleansing. Something to free the mutant from this corruption.

Aegis' sheild-like crest started to glow. The ritual was about to begin.

Suffice to say, with such odd actions being taken, questions were bound come up.

"Alaric, what's going on? Andrzej asked.

Alaric turned his head to the captain before returning to his focus.

"If he's going to die, then he'll die human." Alaric replied bluntly.

"Human?" the captain said in puzzlement.

Alaric's gauntleted hand started to glow, the ornamentation on the armour plating lighting up. Then runes of an unknown scripture, but familiar to Alaric, materialised around his hands like orbiting planets.

"Whoa." Karl said in astonishment.

"What tech is this?" Hicks asked in awe, scrambling to find his datapad to record this.

He had just managed to hit 'record' as the spectacle began.

Embers of white light started to glow and then rise from the mutated miner. The embers then turned into white blue tinged flames with the embers flaring in number in a mesmerising display of almost celestial nature. The xenomorph tainted areas of his body, the claws and taloned feet, even the horrific wound in the abdomen and tail stump, were slowly starting to glow like hot metal in a forge.

What was most disturbing was that carapace looked as if it was pulsing in reaction to this intrusion. Much like how flesh becomes inflamed when it is infected.

Aegis then held his head up high, looking up to the sky as his eyes shone more intensely. The runes floating around Alaric's hands then converged into his hand with a bright flash of power, embers erupting from their impact. Aegis lowered his head down and from his eyes streams of ethereal energy flowed out into the mutant's chest like water through the air.

It was at that moment that the initiates arrived to see what all the commotion was and what they saw would prove to be most mind-bending to an already unbelievable journey.

The mutant started to strain in perceived discomfort, feeling the flames course through him a like a torrent, light erupting from the fissures in the xenomorph carapace. Either from the resisting corruption in his body or by the fire that was even now burning through him, he could not tell. Then as the flames intensified into, an inferno fragments of the xenomorph carapace and chitin throughout his body started to crumble, bits of varying sizes broke off and rose from him like a cliff face eroding into a sea.

The glowing fragments of xenomorph carapace and internal tissues rose into the air before disintegrating into masses of embers. And as each fragment lifted from the mutant, pure flames of light was revealed underneath like magma beneath the earth's crust.

Hicks looked at his datapad's screen, silent from what he was recording. The light was blotting out the view like he was recording the sun.

"Unreal" someone murmured.

But then the sight turned very real in a literal change of colour.

The white flames ominously bled into a deathless black giving off an eldritch purple light. The mutant then gave off a series of distorted pain-filled yells as the black flames, in a manner that spoke sentience, began to force themselves back inside him.

Hick's datapad at that point started to fizzle and crack before the screen blew out in a shower of sparks.

"What is this?!" Hicks said, dropping his now useless instrument in shock.

The other Archangels were just as if not more disturbed by this spectacle. Especially how their comms, along with any other communications gear the survivors had, were now going into a serious bout of interference with a loud piercing electronic screech and the cameras on those helmets cracked and fractured. Helmets and headsets were being wrenched off with a feverish urgency that left their wearers holding their ears.

These flames were more then just energy in a sense. The flames were alive!

"My head!" Sergei grunted through gritted teeth.

Mac yelled in Japanese, holding his ears in pain. This screech had gotten right into their heads in more ways then one and some were worse off then others.

"Look, the flames are trying to get back inside it!" Karl said, pointing at the writhing black flames trying to burrow even deeper into the mutant.

And more so when the mutant started convulsing like a host about to release a chestburster. And the skin on his chest was heaving, adding to that sickening notion.

"There's something in there!" Sarah shouted in disgust.

Most of the assembled spectators started taking a few cautious steps back from this all too familiar reaction. The Archangels and a few braver marines stayed their ground.

The initiates were just as shocked from this sight. Fel'tak was spouting shocked and colourfully explicit ramblings while Mal'fax was silent with wide eyes. Kra'vyx, holding the gauss rifle in his arms, was more or less perplexed at this living flame. Ly'enta was, to put it lightly, frozen with fear at this unnatural sight.

Alaric, with his helmet enhancing his view and protecting his ears, looked into the black flames and it was there that he found the source of the corruption, like a void sucking in surround light. It was just within reach.

_There it is_, Grinyr indicated in Alaric's head. _It's exposed. Grab it!_

Alaric's eye's narrowed into slits as he drove his hand into the black flames as Aegis' eyes flared brighter in concentration. The ornamentation on his armour glowed as the flames ceased their intrusion into the mutant and instead started to encircled his arm like a void firestorm.

It looked like the black flame wasn't going to be extinguished without a fight.

Alaric was now visibly wresting with the flames, trying to somehow get a firm hold of them. More black flames erupted from the mutant as he continued to scream, lashing out at the surround area and causing everyone in the vicinity to hurriedly back off.

"This is fucked up!" a marine shouted.

"This is beyond fucked up!" another marine corrected.

But as the flames continued to resist, lashing out at him in fiery swipes, Alaric spotted what he was reaching for as the core of the flames agonisingly slowly emerged from the mutant's chest from a glowing ring-like fissure in his chest.

An invisible ragged crystal shard, wreathed in black and purple flame.

And the energy streams from Aegis's eyes were directed to it.

"Gotcha!" Alaric growled through his teeth.

He lunged down with his arm and grabbed the crystalline heart of the black flames in a fiery flash of black and purple embers that made everyone take a step another back. Fel'tak filled the air with more explicitness as he tumbled backwards into the snow. Mal'fax tumbled over him, landing on his back.

Alaric pulled at the crystal, trying to wrench it out of the mutant, who was now giving off an unholy cacophony of screams that added terror to his already light consumed body. The crystal was now sending out tendril-like arcs of energy in response to being yanked out of it's host. The tendrils latched onto the mutant, causing him to scream even more as the crystal struggled to burrow itself deeper. Some tendrils lashed out and wrapped themselves around Alaric's arm and others lashed out wildly.

_You almost got the shard out_, Gri'nyr warned. _Careful,_ _It's looking for a new host_.

Alaric turned this head towards the others who had already taken a good few steps back.

"Stay back!" Alaric yelled as a tendril lashed out at the nearest colonists before latching onto his helmet. "Don't let it touch you!"

Everyone took another obligatory step backwards

Alaric regained his grip on the crystal, making sure he had a good grip for extraction. As much as he could with black fire and tendrils in account.

_Pull! _Gri'nyr urged.

Alaric heaved at the crystal with as much force as his armour could muster. The crystal gave off a loud crystalline screech that made everyone reach for their ears again. The black flames were now being sucked back into the crystal. The tendrils continued to wrestled with Alaric as he continued to pull, the ornamentation on his armour glowing intensely. With a loud flash, his armour gave out a pulse of power that battered the tendrils off him like an unearthly squid spreading it's tentacles in the ocean.

And that was the last lock in the way.

There was a loud crunch as the crystal finally gave out and came free in a loud fiery flash of black and violet. The energy tendrils dissipated like dust in the wind. The mutant's screams gave out as, either by loss of consciousness or death, he fell comatose and unmoving into the snow.

Aegis' eyes stopped glowing and he lowered his wings in exhaustion as he half sat, half fell into the snow, his plumage now notably dull. Alaric slowly rose to his feet as the mutant's body continued to glow, the ornamentation on his armour dimming and fading.

"Got it." Alaric said softly in victory.

Andrzej hesitantly stepped forward as the squad followed him.

"Alaric?" he asked, stopping behind Alaric. "What did you get?"

Alaric turned to the captain and what he held in his hand was something that was not there before. In his hand was a crystal, barely visible in his hand, the size of an index finger and wreathed with purple and black flames.

Suffice to say, this sight was something that was unnerving and unexpected.

"God, what is that?" a bystander asked.

"Fire isn't supposed to be black!" another said.

The Archangels were wary of this object that wasn't in Alaric's hand a few moments ago. The initiates were

Alaric looked down into the crystal like a fortune teller peering into her crystal ball. He could make out the shard's shape from the flames seeping from it. And in his eyes, he could make out a dark shape in the flame that bore a distinctive crest. And then the whispers started to infiltrate his mind, slowly but surely getting louder.

And he wasn't the only one to feel it. Everyone in close proximity with the shard, maybe a metre or so, started to hold their heads like they were on the onset of a headache. They started to complain about loud, almost tune-like ringing in their ears, though none else was hearing anything. Sarah attributed it to combat stress. Hicks, however, said he could only hear a slight humming, not a ringing. But as soon as they took a pace or two back, the ringing lessened until it rang out.

Mal'fax deciding he and his friends have seen enough, ushered them away. Kra'vyx however need some more forceful encouragement. There would be time for Alaric to explain later.

Alaric, gazing into the crystal, was certain now that the source of this shard was staring back at him. And he would send a message right back at it as he clenched his hand.

Alaric watched as the crystal writhed in his hand as he squeezed, watching glowing cracks fracture inside before it shattered in a flash of black and purple embers. What could be described as diamond dust slipped through his fingers and dispersed into the air, fading into nothingness. And the whispers faded with it.

Alaric gave his hand a once-over, watching for any residue that the crystal might have left behind.

_That wasn't so difficult_, Alaric quipped.

_That was only a fragment._ Gri'nyr reminded. _The Primarch's soul will be much harder to crack._

The Archangel came back over to him, holding their heads.

"What was that thing, Alaric?" Andrzej asked, holding his ears. "Our ears were ringing."

"Ringing?" Hicks interjected, picking up his blown out datapad. "I only heard a buzzing."

"There was definitely ringing, Hicks" Karl corrected.

Alaric looked to them.

"That was the cancer." Alaric revealed, lowering his hand.

Alaric turned back to the mutant whose light consumed body was even now starting to dim. He held out an arm and Aegis jumped onto his forearm before hopping up to his shoulder.

"Hopefully, he survived." Alaric said in anticipation.

"Survived?" Andrzej questioned.

All that screaming from before was suggesting that the mutant had died a slow and agonising death.

When the light dissipated into a dim glow before dying out, shock was everyone's reaction. Alaric however was hardened by the truth. There in front of them, half-naked in the snow was a miner, albeit in bad shape with red flamelike scarring where the xenomorph carapace used to be and completely bereft of any hair.

A miner that was thought long dead after being taken by the xenomorphs.

"It... can't be." Mel stammered.

Her son beaten her to the chase.

"Dad!" he cried in happiness.

The miner opened his eyes with a start, taking a long unrestricted breath. He then coughed hard as his lungs reacted to having more oxygen in them. His right eye was blue and human but, like a scar, his left eye was jet black as xenomorph carapace. A reminder of the fate he almost succumbed to.

"Kenneth?!"

Kenneth rolled onto his front, coughing loudly as he shakily tried to get to his knees. He looked up at his wife and son. When he saw them with his own eyes, and not in the vision of the xenomorphs, he smiled weakly

"The voices are gone." Kenneth rasped with long overdue relief, slipping into a shivering heap in the snow. "Finally."

Alaric looked to Sarah, seeing the medic was just stupefied from what had just transpired.

"Don't just stand there, get him some thermal gear!" Alaric ordered.

Sarah's medical training kicked in as she reached for her pack and pulled out the thermal blanket that was rolled tightly on top, activating the heat filaments within with a prompt crack. Alaric quickly got Kenneth out of the snow and Sarah wrapped the thermal blanket around him. But before she could wrap him up, his son rushed into his arms in a much overdue hug that sent them crashing into Alaric's legs.

Kenneth winced as he felt his son hugging him tightly, the flame scarring already raw from his ordeal.

"Careful, he's lucky the purge didn't kill him." Alaric warned, wrapping the thermal blanket around Kenneth.

At that point the silence was abruptly ended as the situation finally set in.

"Wasn't he taken?!" a colonist questioned.

"Him and Dylan were taken not two days ago!" another added

Andzrej at that point joined in with the questioning.

"Alaric, what is this." he demanded.

Alaric looked up to the captain as he stood up and removed his helmet.

"This is one of the missing colonists." Alaric answered, as if it wasn't obvious enough. "Who else do you think it is?"

Alaric then walked away from the group but the squad followed after him. Kenneth was now being seen to by several colonists who had began gathering any salvaged clothing for him to wear. Not that the dead was going to be needing them any more.

"Nobody ever comes back after they were taken!" a colonist said in disbelief.

"He was taken, just like the others!" another added.

Alaric stopped when he was out of earshot of the colonists for what he was about to reveal to his squad. Suffice to say, his body language was starting to agitate his fellow archangels.

"Alaric, what are you not telling us?" Andrzej demanded. "That colonist we know for certain was taken by the bugs like the others."

Alaric turned to the captain as Aegis jumped off his shoulder and into the snow.

"Yes, like the others." Alaric confirmed before he gestured to all the dead xenomorphs. "And, as much as I hate to say it, even now their bodies lay all around us."

Andrzej rolled his eyes as his patience ran out.

"Well of course they're all around us, most of them got butchered by the bugs!" Andrzej reminded, like Alaric had suddenly gone dumb.

Alaric, annoyed that they had not yet got it, walked right up to Andrzej, face to face until they were just inches apart.

"Not just them, the bugs too!" Alaric revealed, pointing out with his helmet.

Andrzej went silent from what Alaric had almost shouted in his face. Not out of the manner of insubordination but for the answer he was given.

The squad looked around at all the dead xenomorphs after Alaric's answer. As far as they could see, dead xenomorphs littered the area.

Suffice to say, Alaric's answer was met with immediate scepticism.

"What?" Andrzej said in disbelief.

"Alaric, you cannot be serious." Hicks said, thinking that the cold must have got to Alaric's brain.

Karl openly laughed the mere idea.

"You're joking." Karl laughed credulously.

Alaric was dead serious. And when Alaric was serious, that was when all theory and postulation is thrown out of the window.

Karl's grin left his face and was replaced with dread.

"Wait, you're not seriously suggesting..." Karl started.

"They ARE the colonists." Alaric bluntly revealed, gesturing once more to all the dead xenomorphs littering the convoy wrecks. "These demonic bugs are in fact the missing colonists."

This was not something that could be readily believed. Considering the huge fundamental difference between humans and xenomorphs. But if what they saw Kenneth as was real, as a unholy combination of both species when he intervened to save his wife and son, then that meant one thing.

Suffice to say, denial was the first reaction.

"No. No fucking way!" Karl said, shaking his head and walking off.

Sarah started whispering in French as the thought of slaughtering colonists entered her head.

"Oh, I think so." Sergei confirmed, rubbing his back.

Mac held a hand to his eyes when realisation hit home, muttering in japanese.

Hicks held his head in shock.

"But... how can..." Hicks started, trying to come up with a logical explanation. "Xenomorphs use hosts to breed!"

Alaric turned to him.

"You're correct." Alaric answered. "They do use hosts, only they don't simply use them as incubators. These bugs infected them. Changed them cell by cell and sculpted them in their own image."

Andrzej, who was silent Alaric's confession, spoke up. While it wasn't clear whether or not he believed Alaric, he was taking it as a possibility.

"You've seen it with your own eyes." he questioned. "What they did to this colonist. The honest, god-fearing truth?"

Alaric turned to him.

"Yes." He confirmed. "I saw it with my own eyes in their hive."

The Archangels' eyes went wide and a jaw or two dropped.

"You were in their hive!?"

"Yes." Alaric answered. "As much as I'd want to deny it. I found one miner undergoing the change." he pointed towards Kenneth. "His brother."

Andzrej looked at all the dead xenomorphs. They way Alaric was so earnest in his explanation seemed to hit home with the captain. In his mind he saw not xenomorphs, but colonists.

"Then... we had been killing the people we were... trying to protect." Andzrej said, shaking his head. "How ironic."

"No. They're not people. Not any more." Alaric corrected "They were dead the moment they were caught."

"But then how does that explain why they knew where to strike us?" Hicks asked. "It not like they had any..."

"Interrogation." Alaric cut in. "From key personnel."

Alaric resumed his attention to the captain.

"You're wondering why the bugs knew so much about the colony?" Alaric asked. "Now you know. The bugs converted those who had that knowledge. The colonial administrator. The marine's CO. Everyone who knew the inner workings of the colony."

Alaric then produced something from Razeal's holster that he had foresight to retrieve on his way out of the hive. It was the desiccated remains of the colonial administrator's badge. Andrzej took it in his hands and confirmed that it was authentic, along with the hive webbing that was still stuck on it.

It was at that point that Hicks had a eureka moment.

"Wait a second." Hicks said in realisation as he reached for his blown out datapad. "I think Alaric has a point!"

He quickly retrieved the memory card, thankfully undamaged, and he inserted it into his wrist unit before typing rapidly.

"What is it?" Andzrej asked. "You believe Alaric now?"

"Not believe, conferring." he corrected.

The rest of the squad huddled around him.

"Hicks, is there something you're not telling us?" Andrzej questioned.

Hicks did a quick head check to make sure no one from the colony would be eaves dropping.

"I know I'll be court-martialed for this, but, these are images I accessed a few weeks back without clearance." he said, reaching for a portable holo-projector from his belt and connecting it to his wrist unit.

"You hacked into the database?!" Sarah exclaimed.

"No, someone conveniently left the door open." Hicks quipped."I was looking into obscure findings from other Spec Ops squads, during an insomnia episode, when I came across this classified file before it was stored. I thought it was a novelty at first but after what Alaric said, I don't think it is."

Film footage was rapidly projecting over his hand, no doubt helmet-cam footage. It showed Spec Ops marines venturing into a dark cave complex, searching for something. Eventually they came across what looked like an abnormally small hive that took up an area of no more then ten feet.

"This is from an incident which involved a single drone but it's similar to what Alaric is talking about." Hicks explained, continuing to play the footage. "The xenomorph was quickly eliminated during a host run but when the squad searched for the missing colonists it took, they found this."

He paused the footage at the correct point.

The image that was projector showed was something that was stomach turning, enough to make the less fortitude turn away in nauseating disgust and shock. It was the sight of an unfortunate colonist cocooned in what looked like a developing xenomorph egg and that the egg was actually forming from the victim itself. The victim looked long dead and was partially dissolved, or more accurately absorbed, into the egg. Opposite the growing egg was another colonist who no doubt was going to be the resulting host.

Suffice to say, apart from Alaric, the Archangels were both disturbed and disgusted.

"I knew you could be eccentric at times but this is disgusting, Hicks!" Karl said, turning away.

"And I thought my country thought of some disturbing stuff in its time." Mac mused.

"Is that even... feasible?" Sarah questioned in contained revulsion.

The medic was nauseated over this strange sight that seemed to defy medical reasoning.

Andrzej as not as disgusted from the image, having seen many a host in stages of decomposition in hives, but he did get an idea of why Hicks thought this was relevant.

"I have never seen or heard of anything like that. Ever." Andzrej said, looking to Hicks.

"This is only the third known instance of this kind of host ever recorded." Hicks pointing out before typing into his pad. "And it only happens if there are no queens or at the very least no eggs."

He then projected a scientific file that detailed forensic investigations involved in dissecting one of these 'eggs'. It even showed extensive details on how, theoretically, the victim's biomass was absorbed and then reconstructed into ovomorph tissues.

"From what could be ascertained before the 'hosts' were terminated, it seemed that the xenomorphs could convert the victim's biomass into a viable egg, no doubt one bearing a royal facehugger for the host adjacent to it." Hicks concluded. "That gave me reason to believe that what Alaric is saying is plausible at least."

"Only instead of starting from scratch, they just morph the colonists into mature bugs." Andrzej finished.

"And they still retain memories from when they used to be human." Alaric added with importance. "Which they then use against us to strike sensitive targets."

Andrzej cupped his chin in thought. Putting together everything that they had learned so far, the stunning perfection in their attacks on the colony that captured important colonists and destroyed vital machinery, he had to take into consideration that this was all entirely plausible. And seeing one of the colonists in the process of this metamorphosis added more favour to it.

He was soon interrupted from his thoughts.

A load pained groan was heard at that point. And it was coming from one of the wrecked trucks on the outskirts.

"Shit, there's someone else alive out there!" a colonist said.

"Where was it?" another asked.

Andzrej held up his binoculars to ascertain whether or not this was a trap. Xenomorphs and yautja hunters had been known use hostages as bait to lure their enemies into a trap. Another grown was heard, the noise sounding like pain from movement like if one was walking on a fractured foot for instance. And it was coming from one of the wrecks in the perimiter.

When he saw a blackened humanoid shape tumbled into view from behind a wrecked truck, he lowered the binoculars when he recognised a badly scarred head.

"Sarah, get over there now!" he ordered.

Sergeant Kelso, who had likely just regained consciousness, was seen dragging himself out from the truck he was flung into. He crawled out, a hand on his side from where the xenomorph tail struck him, drawing a trail of bloodied snow behind him. His armour was damaged beyond use and his clothing blackened from the wreckage.

Again, despite getting his ass manhandled to him for a second time, he didn't die.

But as the Archangels' medic rushed to him with the beaten sniper in tow, it was evident that he was hiding something. The medic skidded to him.

"Kelso, come on." Sarah urged, grabbing him by his free arm "We have to get you out of here."

Kelso however resisted her administrations with a forceful push and sat himself against the wrecked truck. He coughed hard, blood bubbling out of his mouth before he winced.

"Sorry, I'm going somewhere, but not with you." Kelso strained, laying back against the wrecked chassis and holding his side with both hands. "That fucking bug already gave my ticket out of here."

Sarah looked down to where Kelso was holding his bloodied side, seeing blood seep from his fingers in a steady trickle. Moving his hands out of the way for a better look, she gasped with a hand to her mouth when she saw the damage he had sustained.

Kelso had been ripped open from that tail slash, his armour torn through like tin foil and he was literally holding in his guts. It was a miracle that he was still alive. But, considering the injuries he already sustained at the refinery beforehand, he would not be for much longer

And it wasn't like they had the equipment to save his life anyway.

Sarah whispered in French at the extent of his wounds as the rest of the squad walked up as the. Sergei, still shaky on his feet from his earlier defeat, sat down next to Kelso, hissing as his back connected with the chassis behind them. Kelso turned to him.

"I got blind-sided." Kelso pointed out, indicating his wound.

"Tell me about it." Sergei wheezed. "Fuckers have a nasty left hook."

Kelso chuckled before the pain made him stop. He saw all the rest of the colonists went about scavenging what they could or tending to the wounded. The initiates were tending to their own, Ly'enta taking care of Kra'vyx and a less then cooperative Fel'tak while Mal'fax was keeping an eye out.

He looked up to Andrzej.

"The colonists?" Kelso asked.

"Most of them are safe. Some of your marines too." Andrzej revealed. 'And the hunters made it as well."

Kelso groaned in relief.

"So the evacuation wasn't a complete failure." he sighed. "Fucking bugs."

Alaric walked up and Kelso looked up at him, a smile creeping onto his mauled and scarred face.

"Well... you finally made it." Kelso praised. "Nice gear by the way."

Alaric knelt down to him and saw the extant of Kelso's injuries.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner." Alaric apologised.

"Don't apologise." Kelso waved off. "If the Corps teaches one thing: We all die eventually. Some sooner then later. Just make sure it counts like Flambe did."

He gave Alaric a look over, seeing his armour up close and the weaponry with which he made literally mincemeat out of the xenomorphs before he grinned.

"I saw the whole thing with you saving the day." he said. "It's about time those bugs got their asses kicked."

His eye widened as he remembered the last part.

"And that light show. God, talk about a twist ending though." he added.

"You saw it?" Alaric asked.

"Enough to know the truth." Kelso revealed.

Kelso coughed up more blood and they could hear his breath hitching. Sarah looked to Alaric, more accurately to Aegis. Having seen the hawk help Kenneth, Aegis could heal Kelso.

"Alaric, can't your hawk help him?" she asked.

"Yeah, it saved the colonist." Sergei asked. "Could be worth a shot if he doesn't mind checking my ribs too."

Aegis answered that question when he gestured to his dull plumage. Alaric understood the meaning.

"Aegis is pretty drained from cleansing the colonist." Alaric confirmed, holding his hand out as Aegis hopped on. "I don't know if he'll be able to heal Kelso fully, but he could stem the bleeding."

Kelso waved his hand in refusal as Alaric was about to hand Aegis over.

"I know enough about triage to know I'm a lost cause." he said, acknowledging his fate. "Even if it is... magic being used here."

Kelso coughed harder then before, blood spraying out from his mouth and his entrails bulged behind his hands. He breathed sharply as he felt pain erupt in his ruptured side.

"Shit." he strained.

Andrzej nodded to Sarah. Sarah reached into her pack and pulled out out her injector unit. She then pulled out an ampoule of potent painkillers, loaded the injector and then injected it into Kelso's neck. His strained features softened after a few moments.

A little something to help him along his way.

"Good stuff." Kelso joked.

He motioned Alaric over to him. Alaric leaned over as Aegis hopped back on his shoulder.

"Alaric, you're the only one who can protect them now." Kelso rasped, breathing deeply to get as much air as he could. "Get them... off this rock. Don't let me... and my boys die for nothing. "

He coughed again before his eyes dilated as he leant back.

"Here I come, boys." he chuckled in anticipation. "First one's on me."

Kelso gave his last breath and his head slumped down. His hands limply fell and, mercifully, his entrails did not spill out. Alaric sighed as Sarah reached over to shut Kelso's eyes and retrieve his dog tags.

A slight screeching was heard.

"Shit, we got a live one!" a marine yelled in warning.

Turning around, everyone saw that it was coming from the xenomorph that had issued Kelso's death warrant. It's bladed tail still had his blood on it as it tried to get up, no doubt having not yet fully regenerated from Alaric's beating earlier. Some marines, hastily armed with metal piping were keeping their distance from it but had it surrounded.

The course of action was already decided.

"Archangels, restrain the fucker." Andrzej commanded.

The Archangels drew their swords and they marched towards the xenomorph. As they approached they could see that it was trying to get away. No doubt to retreat to the hive. The Archangels on the other hand had no intention of letting it go.

Alaric, putting on his helmet, jumped up onto it's back and stomped it into the snow as the rest of the squad moved up. One angel each stabbed a limb, sliding the swords through gaps in it's carapace while the other two went for the tail, nailing it. It screeched and thrashed as the blades kept in place as the Archangels put their weight upon it. Sergei, who had taken his place on the tail's midsection, was driving his sword in deeper, muttering in russian in payback for it's brood kin's attack on him.

"That's right." Alaric coldly said. "How does it feel to be the prey?"

Alaric grabbed the xenomorph's head by it's upper jaw and wrenched it up. It shot out it's inner jaw in defiance but Alaric grabbed it as it snapped shut. With a wrench, he tore out the jaw and tossed it to the side. Acidic blood bubbled out of its mouth from the shredded stump and it gurgled from the haemorrhaging orifice.

Alaric plucked one of the grenades from his belt. The Archangels put their full weight on their swords and braced themselves. He then wrenched the xenomorphs head back in a headlock so that he was now staring it in the eyes, in a manner of speaking.

"If you're watching this, it's YOUR turn to be afraid!" Alaric declared, pulling the pin.

Alaric shoved the grenade down the the xenomorph's maw before stomping it's head into the snow, keeping it's jaw shut. The xenomorph thrashed around, trying to get free and get the grenade out of its mouth but the Archangels kept it's limbs nailed to the ground and Alaric kept it's head firmly in the snow.

The grenade detonated, a massive eruption of flame rushed out of it's clenched maw and gaps in carapace, making the snow around them billow out in a cloud. It's skull actually bulged out from containing the blast, flecks of chitin pinging off. When explosion ceased, it's head resembled a demented xenomorph jack-o-lantern.

Alaric stomped with his boot and the xenomorph's blasted head imploded in a shower of chitin and smoke. He then hopped off the now sufficiently dead xenomorph as the Archangels sheathed their swords.

Alaric looked around for any other xenomoprhs that might have regenerated.

"Any more want to have a third round!?" Alaric called out, daring any regenerating xenomoprh to attack him.

No other xenomorphs regenerated this time. It would seem they had taken the hint in a manner of speaking.

"That's what I thought." he finished, removing his helmet.

They walked back to the colinists as the initiates went about claiming their trophies. Fel'tak, rather pathetically, was scrounging in the wrecked transport searching for what was left of his trophy. Mal'fax, who was watching Fel'tak's efforts, was repeatedly telling him to forget about it, only to have abuse and the odd scrap of metal hurled at him in response. Some of the surviving marines were roaming about, hesitantly getting near dead xenomorphs to check if they were definitely deceased. It didn't hurt to make sure that their heads were fully away from their necks.

"Back to where we were, is that the last of them?" Andrzej repeated as a marine walked up to him.

"We checked the area. That's the last of the bastards... for the moment." a marine reported before turning to Alaric. "With hope, you killed the whole hive." he optimistically added.

Alaric however then ruined the moment of relief.

"No." Alaric stated as Aegis hopped onto his shoulder. "Not all of them."

Everyone looked to each other when they heard Alaric's denial.

"What do you mean?" Andzrej asked. "You virtually wiped out everything they threw at us."

Alaric looked out into the snowy distance as if he was waiting for something to emerge.

"Haven't seen the Primarch yet." he clarified

That word stumped his fellow marines. It was one word that they have never heard associated to xenomorphs in one form or another.

"Primarch?" Andrzej said.

"The one responsible for this mess." Alaric explained.

By that, they thought that the word 'Primarch' was simply another word for 'Queen'.

"Don't you mean the queen?" Hicks corrected.

"No, Pri-march." Alaric enunciated. "Think of it vaguely as a queen mother, only far more dangerous."

The Archangels pondered the meaning of this supposed higher caste. The highest tier of the xenomorph hierarchy was taken by the the Queen Mothers with the Empresses below them.

"You've seen this 'Primarch'?" Andrzej asked "While you were still in the hive, you saw this thing?"

Alaric shook his head.

"Not really. I only caught a glimpse of it in it's... cocoon." Alaric answered. "But it was big. Real big."

"How big." Andrzej questioned, wanting a more definitive answer.

"It makes even a queen mother look like a drone in comparison from it's size." Alaric explained. "But, I'm telling you, this Primarch is nothing like anything we have ever fought before."

Andrzej crossed his arms.

"There's something else isn't there?" he guessed.

Alaric took a breath.

"This bug was... ancient." He described "Ancient and powerful. Glowing with... unnatural power."

He held his hand up to temple, tapping in emphasis.

"And it was... I don't know how to say it but... it was like it was pushing it's way into my head." Alaric added. "These whispers kept filling my mind, trying to get me to submit. The harder I fought it, the louder the whispers got."

He lowered his hand.

"When I got away from it, I thought tears were rolling down my face." Alaric described. "But, when I took my helmet off and rubbed my eyes, turns out it was blood I was weeping."

The xenomorphs have been confirmed to have a certain level of psychic potential, sharing the hive mind that links all xenomorphs to their queens. And it had been confirmed, especially leading to, during and after the infestation of Earth, they are capable of subtly... influencing those who are less strong in mind. Often, those who have been driven mad or those of a religiously fanatical background as evidenced by the Xeno Extremists.

Steps were heard approaching them and they saw Kenneth hobbling along towards them. He had been hastily dressed up in salvaged and slightly haphazard clothing to replace his shredded miner smocks, most notably a large hooded jacket and a pair of goggles as if to hide his scars. His son was back with his wife and from the way he approached, it would appear he had something to add to Alaric's description.

"I can confirm that." Kenneth added.

His voice had come back a bit better though it was still hoarse.

Alaric turned to Kenneth as he stopped next to the captain.

"I was subjected to them for days, trying to keep my head together." Kenneth added. "The voices jabbing right into my head, the whispers so loud they almost drove me mad."

"Can you describe what you felt?" Andrzej asked.

Kenneth remembered what he had felt when he was in the hive. As much as he would love to forget it ever happening, the phantoms will plague him long afterwards.

"Stuck up in that hive, the voices were... almost like a blanket the way they surrounded me. Like when you are subjected to extreme cold for an extended time." he described. " And it felt like... you don't want to fight, you want to give in and go to sleep."

He paused, taking a breath before he continued.

"I stayed awake for days, fighting the urge to sleep, even as I felt my body... changing." he recalled. "I saw many fall asleep and watched as they changed into those... bugs."

He looked at his right arm, visualising how it had turned into xenomorph claws right before his eyes.

"But after two days of fighting and slowly changing, they decided or figured I wasn't worth it so they threw me out to die." he continued, holding his head. "But even then, I was still hearing the voices, telling me to submit and the harder I thought, the louder they got."

He lowered his hand.

"Until he ripped it out of me." he finished, indicating Alaric.

He then remembered main reason he came up to Alaric.

"Listen... um, Alaric." Kenneth started. "There's something I have to ask."

Alaric knew what Kenneth was going to ask him. He could hear it in his voice.

"My brother, Dylan?" Kenneth asked, in anticipation. "You saw him in that place?"

"Yes." Alaric confirmed. "He managed to give me some insight into the hive, what they were planning, until he was... morphed." He looked back to Andrzej. "I saw those spines burst out of his back and his face taking on that certain grin." He looked back to Kenneth. "I'm sorry, but death was his only way out. I saw to it myself."

Kenneth's head sunk when he heard his brothers' fate but he nodded in approval of Alaric's actions. Death was more preferable then turning into one of those xenomorphs.

"Thank you." Kenneth thanked softly. "May he rest in peace."

Andrzej, seeing Kenneth, asked Alaric another pertinent question.

"Was that... thing you pulled out of his chest... part of this Primarch?" Andrzej asked.

Kenneth subconsciously held a gloved hand to his chest as he remembered 'It' being pulled out. Still, he was feeling a wrenching hole where it had been.

"I think the ringing in your ears was proof of that." Alaric clarified. "But it was only a small shard. I guess you could say it's part of the hive mind made manifest."

"Well, if that doesn't prove that Xenomorphs are telepathic then nothing will." Hicks interjected.

So far, this Primarch was proving to be a threat that was far greater then anyone could have anticipated. But if the xenomorphs they were facing were any indication, then this Primarch would have to be the most terrifying entity to be yet faced. Not only, according to Alaric, that it was far larger then a queen mother but it was also powerfully psionic as well.

And, to the survivors, one that begs to be avoided.

"What do you suggest we do?" Andrzej asked "About this Primarch?"

Alaric answer rung with determination.

"Kill it." Alaric answered.

He was met with immediate scepticism and looks of outright lunacy.

"You're serious?" Karl scoffed, like he thought Alaric had lost his marbles. "US killing something that YOU say is more dangerous then even a queen mother?"

Andrej was inclined to agree with the Norwegian marine.

"Alaric, if the thing is still in that temple, let it rot there." Andrzej reasoned. "The last thing we need is to give it more reason to hunt us down."

Alaric was adamant with his decision.

"We are NOT letting this bastard get off this planet." Alaric declared. "If it could do this to an outlying colony, think what it could do to the inner territories. If xeno extremists get wind of this creature, it'll be like the Second Coming for them and Earth could be infested again, permanently."

"But how?!" Karl asked, waving an arm around. "Look around us!"

Devastation was what surrounded them. Broken bodies, flaming wrecks and noting but snow and rocks. And there were barely two dozen of the colony left and most of them were either civilians or wounded.

Karl's shout now brought the whole colony over to find out why he was so angry.

"We have taken severe losses. We have no weapons, no supplies and no way to get off this planet!" he reminded. "And I doubt that even you could even kill it, especially if it's capable of getting inside your head."

Alaric gave him a look that spoke his usual defiance.

"Anything that is alive can be killed." He insisted. "And this thing has to be killed."

Karl held his hands up in frustration before lowering them with grunt. Hicks went up to Karl and ushered him away. Whenever Alaric had his mind made up, it was almost impossible to convince him otherwise.

Andrzej came up to Alaric.

"Alaric, I don't care what your priorities are, considering the circumstances, but we have orders to protect and evacuate surviving colonists." Andzrej reminded. "But to do so, we need to be able to evacuate while we can."

"Exactly." Sarah added. "We barely have anyone who has not been wounded in some manner."

"The ships?" Foreman Hernandez pointed out, bringing up a map of the planet's topography of the area with their route highlighted. "The maps say that the plateau is just beyond this valley."

Sergei stepped over so that he could see the map.

"Well, we can't go back to the colony." Sergei pointed. "If we move now, we could get to the ships before we freeze."

That was met with immediate approval by the colonists who just wanted to get to the ships as soon as possible. But, Alaric shook his head as he banged his helmet on his shield. The noise startled those who didn't expect Alaric's action.

"Forget it." he said. "Those ships are a death trap."

"Death trap?" Hernandez They're in the most secure hanger on this whole planet. Nothing could get to them."

"That would be playing into their hands." he firmly stated before he turned to Andrzej. "Remember what I said about the colonists? They would know about the ships from those they took. The colonial administrator especially."

Hernandez lowered his map at the mention of the long gone administrator.

"What is he talking about?" he asked.

Mac leaned over in a discreet manner.

"Long story, you really don't want to hear it." Mac explained, quickly and seriously.

"Some of them, their reserves maybe, could be just waiting for us to get on those ships and leave. Use us to spread them to other colonies." Alaric continued. "If they're anything like the bugs we're used to, you can bet they'll be even more cunning.

He then gestured to Kenneth.

"This man had been held captive by the bugs for days." he told everyone. "He of all people knows what they're planning."

Kenneth nodded in confirmation, citing that it was the only reason he knew where to find the convoy.

Alaric then pointed to Andrzej.

"And besides, if they did get the Archangels, especially captain Kabowski, then they would know in depth about our military and would be able to counter it." Alaric pointed out "Especially if a recon unit came to investigate their disappearance."

The Archangels looked to each other after that little piece of protocol. Its true that if they're overdue then a search team would be sent to find them. And, seeing as the marines to come would have no intel on the xenomorphs on this planet, then they would just be lambs to the slaughter. Or worse, become unwilling carriers for the xenomorphs in more ways then one.

In any case, the situation at the present had to take priority.

"So what do you suggest?" Hicks asked. "I mean, you somehow managed to find a suit of power armour that would make Robert Heinlen proud, escape a hive and pretty much wiped out the hive."

"Not to mention we are at a severe disadvantage in manpower and resources." Karl reminded. "Just making it clear."

Alaric slipped his helmet back on.

"I've already made my choice." he declared. "What about you lot?"

Everyone looked Andrzej for his input on the situation. As the sole highest ranking marine on the planet, the decision was now entirely up to him. But this was not a decision to take lightly. On one hand, they had the option of continuing to the ships locked up in their hanger but, have the possibility of a xenomorph ambush waiting for them, a situation that they are in no position to even resist. And on the other hand, take a gamble with the lives of his squad and those of the colony, and follow Alaric to an uncertain destination in hopes of salvation.

Andrzej had to choose wisely.

After a minute in thought, Andrzej, the whole colony waiting for his answer with anticipation, made his choice.

"Alaric has defied everything so far."Andrzej reminded ."Maybe we should listen to him this time."

But, as was duly noted, the wounded and those weakened by the fighting would not be able to get far in the snow unless they had transportation. That would be easier said then done, considering the amount of damage that the xenomorphs inflicted from their ambush. But one or maybe two of the transports only had their armour plating torn off, leaving their engines mostly intact. The xenomorphs were more intent on grabbing hosts then wrecking everything in sight.

The captain turned to his Scandinavian mechanic.

"Karlson, if we cannibalise the wrecks, can you get one of the more intact tranports up and running for the wounded?"

Karl scratched off some of the ice and snow from his beard.

"Let me go and literally dig out my tools and I'll see what I can do." he said, leaving the group to set about his work. "Any mechanics left, follow me!" he called out.

Several colonists, including Kenneth, followed him. Karl retraced his steps to where he threw his tools down in frustration and promptly dug them out. Andrzej turned to the remaining colonists.

"Everyone, salvage what you can." he ordered. "We leave within the hour."

It didn't take long to salvage what little could be found. Mostly what they had on their person. But, without too much swearing, Karl got the larger transport which contained the power loaders running, complete with ad-hoc patches of metal covering the gaps and with some assistance from Alaric to de-freeze the engine and fuel tank using his plasmacasters on low power. It was a squeeze to get all the colonists, plus the initiates and their trophies, on board but fortunately, Hicks had played a lot of tetris in his youth. On the plus side, they would be warm from their combined body heat.

Alaric had to gather up the initiates and inform them of the plan in advance. Fel'tak had managed to find his trophy, now a blackened husk of it's former glory. Mal'fax had his similarly blackened trophy and Ly'enta and Kra'vyx had theirs. But needless to say, they required some persuasion to get into the crowded transport.

The Archangels, having been allocated any scavenged weaponry with a pittance of unused ammunition, a few paltry bolt-guns and a salvaged flamer unit, settled themselves on top of the transport, Karl and Hicks in the driver's cab and the rest on the roof. Sergei had regained possession of the gauss rifle, cradling it somewhat possessively to his chest so as not to lose it again. Sarah was next to him to make sure that he didn't risk breaking his ribs. Mac was at the rear of the transport, holding the flamer in his hands. Captain Kabowski was standing on the cab as Alaric moved in front of the transport and looked up to him, Aegis on his shoulder and his spear out and ready.

They had their helmets back on and had been retuned after the interference fotrunately only threw them out of sync. Alaric had linked his helmet's comms to their network and was now able to communicate with them.

"Ready, captain?" Alaric asked.

Andrzej tapped his boot on the cab roof.

"Start her up." Andrzej ordered.

Karl hit the ignition and the engine gave of a loud half-frozen gurgle. Karl, muttering in Norwegian, continued to hit the ignition until the engine came to life with a loud belch of black exhaust. A large black cloud erupted around the transport and the squad gave off some humorous coughing, waving the black smog away. The headlights then flared into life, illuminating Alaric.

"Well, Alaric." Andrzej called out, wafting the dark cloud from him. " We're up an running. Where do we go from here?"

Alaric looked to Aegis, who was now looking more refreshes after a rest, on his shoulder.

"Aegis, is there a way off this planet?" Alaric asked the hawk. "A way that the Primarch wouldn't know about?"

Aegis nodded.

"Show us." Alaric commanded.

Aegis spread his wings and jumped off his shoulder. He flew over the transport, the Archangels watched on as he glided away, his plumage glowing brightly like a beacon. Alaric turned to the transport as Aegis hovered in place several meters from their position.

"This way." Alaric said, pointing after Aegis and walking after the hawk.

Karl gave the engine some gas and the transport slowly ploughed it's way through the snow after Alaric. Alaric's walk then turned into a brisk jog and Karl matched his speed so as not to lose sight of him.

"So Alaric, where are we going?" Andrzej asked, sitting down on the cab

"Following the light." Alaric answered, pointing the way with his spear.


End file.
